


Lacerate

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaejoong gives Changmin what he needs; problem is Changmin doesn’t even know what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacerate

**Author's Note:**

> the final instalment in the jaeminho 'verse (that can all be read alone, if you wanted) by [jenn](http://zitaoyursocute.tumblr.com/) and I - listed in fic timeline order:
> 
> [lacerate](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1140457) (jaejoong/changmin) by yours truly  
> [shards](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1017240) (changmin/yunho) by jenn  
> [closer](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1060356) (jaejoong/changmin; yunho/changmin) by jenn
> 
> much thanks to jenn for letting me share headcanons and create this for her.
> 
>  **warnings:** underage, dubious consent (borderline non-consensual), unhealthy relationships, emotional/physical/sexual abuse, language, jaejoong’s pov, one-sided changmin/yunho and jaejoong/yunho, explicit sex, including: dom/sub undertones, face-fucking, painplay, breathplay, minor bondage, rimming, dirty talk.
> 
> If it isn’t clear, this fic is how a seventeen year old Jaejoong seduces and manipulates a fifteen year old Changmin into a sexual relationship and the following years of abuse as he uses and breaks Changmin, until the lawsuit that separates them.

-

 

Jaejoong knows Changmin is special when he hears about the boy before ever meeting him.

 

It’s in the SM cafeteria, the three of them – him, Junsu, and Yunho – eating lunch when Junsu pipes up: ‘did you see the new trainees today in the dance studio?’

 

‘I met the one who clapped,’ replies Yunho, grinning. ‘Think I scared him though – he was so small, and I was in a hurry to get to the showers.’

 

‘Clapped?’ asks Jaejoong.

 

‘Yeah, I heard it from Hyukjae,’ picks up Junsu, ‘he didn’t even dance at his audition. Just stood there and clapped and they let him in. If he can’t dance, I guess that means his voice is good, right?’

 

‘As good as Jaejoong-hyung’s?’

 

Jaejoong props his chin in the palm of his hand and shakes his head at Yunho’s question. ‘Probably not.’

 

-

 

The name tastes like innocence on Jaejoong’s tongue when they’re finally introduced. _My name is Shim Changmin._

 

Shim, mouths Jaejoong, feels how his lips don’t have to do anything or go anywhere – a delicate, fragile name stuck between his teeth. Shim Changmin.

 

It matches the boy standing in front of him, his arms carved from thin bird bones and his voice too soft to be clever. Jaejoong likes Changmin’s too-long black hair and wide mouth, though his nose and jawline will have to be carved by the doctors.

 

Still, Jaejoong can see it – the handsome boy little Changminnie was going to be, if he didn’t break first, of course.

 

‘I’m Kim Jaejoong,’ replies Jaejoong with a smile, and it seems to ease the boy. The SM staff quiver around them, ready to move once introductions are done, and launch into a spiel about sample recordings to be done with a tentative group.

 

Yunho’s been shoved with Yoochun somewhere, and Junsu is in another one, so Jaejoong gets to keep Changmin here alone with him. Just for a little while.

 

-

 

Changmin sings like a baby bird – his voice a careening falsetto that reaches upup _up_ where his short stature can’t reach, not even when he stretches his bone arms above his head like he’s trying to touch the sky.

 

Jaejoong matches him as best as he can, but there’s an undercurrent of roughness to his voice that the vocal coach can never get rid of, like a plague creeping up his throat, dragging his notes down.

 

At fourteen, Changmin keeps to himself, stands aside and watches everything with his wide eyes, drinks it in, his steps skittering across the floor when his name is called to stand inside the booth with his lyric sheet.

 

Jaejoong dreams of cracking the white eggshell of Changmin’s innocence, dipping his fingers into the slick insides where the real Changmin is curled up, drag him out all gasping for breath and clinging tight to Jaejoong’s arms, sweet voice keening out, ‘ _hyung_.’

 

Instead, he settles for watching Changmin as Changmin watches the world.

 

-

 

It’s the third tentative group Jaejoong has been shoved into and it falls apart like the other ones.

 

This is unsurprising in the least, but it leaves a question of whether they will debut any time soon or not.

 

Yoochun pouts about his own fallout as they smoke in the parking lot of the building, ‘at least Yunho is entertaining. We might become roommates.’

 

‘Not me?’ mock-gasps Jaejoong.

 

‘We might not even be in the same fuckin’ band,’ sighs Yoochun. ‘But I think they’ll keep me with Yunho, just like they’re making you stick to that skinny kid like glue.’

 

‘They say our voices match,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I like him.’

 

‘Course you do, you look like you’re going to eat him alive.’

 

‘And feel him struggle between my teeth,’ says Jaejoong airily before he laughs. ‘Yoochunnie, he’s so cute – like _you_. I just want to be his friend.’

 

‘Right.’

 

-

 

Jaejoong learns the first and most important thing about little Shim Changmin a day after they announce the new group project called Dong Bang Shin Ki.

 

Yunho’s been in a slump since Four Seasons got swept away, waving goodbye to Heechul and Kangin as him and Jaejoong walk down the halls of SM three weeks later for another meeting to greet their new bandmates.

 

It takes five groups and two years of training in total for this moment. Jaejoong’s heart is in his throat when he sees Changmin standing beside Yoochun, Junsu at his other side. Around them, the faceless SM staff scurry around insect-like and irrelevant as Jaejoong feels a smile bloom upon his lips when he meets Changmin’s big eyes.

 

Changmin smiles back – uncertain and wavering, his eyes skipping over Jaejoong to look at Yunho beside him. Jaejoong doesn’t think anything of it then.

 

It’s a mistake. The next day, Jaejoong and Changmin are dismissed from the vocal studio early due to technical issues and Jaejoong invites Changmin to watch Yunho and Junsu in the dance rooms.

 

‘Okay,’ Changmin agrees, short of breathless, and Jaejoong discovers why when they stand near the water bottles, observing the choreography performed to the thumping bassline echoing out of the speakers.

 

The music comes to an end and Jaejoong follows the line of Changmin’s gaze, the way it traces over the glimmer of sweat on Yunho and Junsu’s shoulders as they bump against one another and laugh, wiping at their brows.

 

Jaejoong wonders what the appeal is to Changmin – whether it’s the sleek-eyed, lazy grace of their bodies, the half-hidden arrogance found in the curve of Junsu’s mouth and tilt of Yunho’s chin, the confidence they exude that could snap Changmin’s twig wrists in half should he try to own it himself.

 

Years later, Changmin will admit to it under the cover of night, his skin littered with bruises, mouth twisted – he has been hopelessly in love with Yunho ever since he first laid eyes on him.

 

-

 

Changmin turns fifteen in February and they debut in December. In the eleven months in between, Jaejoong comes to two conclusions:

 

The first – he’s also in love with Yunho.

 

Yunho is assigned as leader, despite Jaejoong being one month older and Junsu being in training for a year longer. He takes to the mantle readily, perfectly willing to lay down in front of some metaphorical bus for all of them – his self-sacrificial tendencies alarming to Jaejoong, who is all sharp teeth and pseudo-smiles.

 

It makes him beautiful in some distant way – perfect leader Yunho who straddles the line between discipline and gentleness, listening eagerly to the manager and trying his hand at getting them all assembled and ready in time, investing his time and life to make the DBSK debut as perfect as can be.

  
Yunho is half-mortal and half-myth in his unflawed existence, and Jaejoong’s fingers twitch to even be able to come close to that, to even be able to _touch_ that.

 

The second – neither him nor Changmin can have Yunho.

 

Changmin is wrapped up in a ribbon of his own naivety, a sacrificial lamb at the altar of fame and riches, his mouth always pressed so tight to keep himself together that it’s a wonder he makes a sound when Yunho speaks to him. It’s the way his insecurities sideline him and make him too flawed and human to be someone for Yunho to lean on when the mantle of leader gets too heavy.

 

And Jaejoong – Jaejoong is all edges decorated with ego, his insecurities spiked with sharp teeth to cut anyone that passes too close. If Yunho comes near, Jaejoong will _hurt_ him – tear him apart and leave him gasping for air and confidence again. Pretty, predatory things like Jaejoong haven’t figured out how to hold toys – eager boys willing to please – without breaking them yet, and Jaejoong wants _anything_ but to cause Yunho pain.

 

That only comes to mean one thing in Jaejoong’s mind – that they must deserve each other, him and little Shim Changmin. The singers – oldest and youngest – who are hopelessly, helplessly in love with leader-sshi.

 

-

 

They move into the dorms three months before their debut – Yunho bunks with Junsu and Changmin while Yoochun and Jaejoong stick close together. They’re too busy to fully enjoy the faculties except that they fight almost daily over the shower and subsist on ramyun for an alarming number of nights.

 

Their manager gives them two days off before their official debut – so Yunho spends the first morning stringing cheap tinsel around their living room and playing a CD of Christmas carols. Jaejoong ropes Junsu into cooking platefuls of omurice – cheap and delicious – that Yoochun sets on the table while Changmin switches the carols CD out with a medley of pop songs.

 

‘Merry Christmas!’ grins Yunho as he begins eating.

 

‘It’s Christmas eve,’ says Jaejoong, hiding a smile as he eats.

 

‘Shit, really, hyung?’ deadpans Junsu across from him, so Jaejoong kicks him under the table. He grazes Changmin’s leg as well, who jerks.

 

‘You’re going to flip the table,’ he says, voice remarkably calm compared to the morning yelling Jaejoong has heard from him, usually, ‘it’s been twenty minutes, Junsu-hyung! I will piss in your shower if you don’t get out!’ One bathroom amongst five people was a bad move on management’s part in general.

 

‘Careful, don’t make Changminnie angry,’ teases Yoochun, and the nickname makes Changmin bristle, who is still unused to having four new hyungs and being tossed around as a joke between them. It makes all his uncertainties rear up in him – his voice laced with annoyance and anger more often than not when he does deign to speak.

 

‘But it makes him so cute,’ replies Jaejoong with a smile. Changmin frowns at his plate, brows drawn together, but he doesn’t reply.

 

-

 

After lunch, Yoochun buries himself in a notebook in his bed, lofty plans to write lyrics for their future careers while Yunho takes a nap and Junsu bundles up to visit Hyukjae. Jaejoong doesn’t know where Changmin is – maybe on the phone with his family – so he changes the pop CD for one of his own that he brought along.

 

The guitar riffs curl up and rumble, followed by interweaving notes of the drums and lyrics sung out with a voice too rough to ever fit into SM. Jaejoong lies on the couch, fingers drumming on his thigh to the flow of the rock music, foreign Japanese mouthed on his lips, while he reads a trash mag he picked up from the convenience store around the corner.

 

That’s when he hears a shuffle and Jaejoong peeks over the edge of his magazine to Changmin standing in the entrance, his eyes half-lidded as he listens to the lyrics he can’t understand and the way the music careens upwards in a loud, cacophonous crescendo.

 

‘Changmin,’ greets Jaejoong, taking in the boy’s bone arms hanging loosely and his too-long hair and his awkward nose. Everything about him a little unfinished and breakable.

 

‘What,’ Changmin hesitates, his fingers skipping along the hem of his shirt in nervousness. ‘What is that?’

 

‘This?’ Jaejoong sits up, magazine forgotten in his lap. ‘It’s Japanese rock. Do you like it?’ Changmin doesn’t reply, so Jaejoong gestures to the space on the couch beside him, making the decision for him. ‘Let me show you some more.’

 

-

 

They steal Yoochun’s Walkman and share headphones for the rest of the evening. For a few hours, they cycle through Jaejoong’s CDs, pilfering through the little lyric booklets that come with, Changmin’s hands are careful as they touch the covers with embossed Japanese written on top.

 

For a little while, Jaejoong keeps Changmin close, watches the flash of curiosity in those wide, lamb eyes, and murmurs the translations he has memorized.

 

‘They sound like you,’ concludes Changmin once it’s time for dinner. Jaejoong gathers up the CDs and looks at him, mouth curling upwards.

 

‘It’s where I learned singing from, Changmin-ah. Maybe you should try it.’

 

Changmin presses his mouth together, looking anywhere but at Jaejoong, nervousness slinking back into his bones, making him retract his thoughts that Jaejoong eagerly wants to touch and listen. ‘Maybe.’

 

Years later, this is what Jaejoong knows – that Changmin hates him, that Changmin would still fuck him, and that when SM gave him the rare chance to do solo songs, three of them were rock songs.

 

-

 

The thing about DBSK’s debut that Jaejoong loves the most is the theatrics: the makeup and the clothes and the stylists cooing over him, telling him, ‘you have such wonderful skin, such pretty lips, such big eyes.’

 

It is all an elaborate charade, and Jaejoong learns to pick and choose from his masks, fit over ‘surprise’ and then ‘confusion’ then ‘elation’ when the camera sweeps over them in expectation. There’s a trick to it – a certain forcing of facial muscles while reading the air in the room, how people speak and where their eyes go, and Jaejoong learns it well.

 

Junsu is good at it too – selling himself to the public, enthused and ecstatic, his manufactured image draped over him like a second skin. But Yoochun struggles – the still frail boy who wears his heart on his sleeve and is always a hint uncertain at this new attention on him, but Jaejoong will hold him up no matter what. They’re best friends after all.

 

Yunho – oh, sweet hardworking _Yunho_ –  is so absolutely genuine that it is hard to not love him, and Jaejoong is pleased when the public falls for him the way he does, the way Changmin does. At fifteen, Changmin is the worst of them all – his voice frail unless he sings, the way his shoulders crook forward as if trying to hide within himself, all of him screaming insecure and awkward with his too-big nose and floppy ears.

 

It’s supposed to end in public, of course. Jaejoong doesn’t mean to bring this particular skill of observation back to the dorms. It’s too late when he realizes he has, for this is what he learns:

 

At fifteen, Changmin hates himself. At fifteen, Changmin also hates Jaejoong.

 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Yunho is the second eldest and leader, and he sticks close to Jaejoong, as if Jaejoong’s January birthday makes him more wise and qualified for advice compared to being born in February like Yunho.

 

They form a friendship – and Jaejoong takes great pains not to show Yunho how fragile Yunho seems, how Jaejoong wants to trace his fingers over the easily-scarred skin of the other, how he wants to leave something of himself there in return.

 

At seventeen, Jaejoong is beautiful and talented and leader-sshi loves him already the way he will never love Changmin, and Changmin loathes this.

 

‘Changmin-ah, you’re up late,’ says Yunho at the kitchen table, his hands full of schedule notes while the clock ticks closer to two in the morning. Jaejoong is leaning against the kitchen counter, sucking on an unlit cigarette, watching as Changmin steps into the kitchen in his oversized pajamas. Changmin shoots Yunho a smile, ‘just got thirsty, hyung,’ before his eyes flick up to Jaejoong, and they’re black flints of dislike.

 

‘Let me pour you a cup,’ replies Jaejoong, ever the helpful hyung, as he does just that without waiting for Changmin to answer.

 

Changmin stands beside Jaejoong, bone fingers tight around the glass. ‘Thanks.’

 

‘You should go to bed now, appa and umma are talking,’ sneers back Jaejoong, just to tease, but he knows Changmin will _not_ lose control in front of Yunho.

 

Instead, Changmin slams the glass into the sink. ‘Thanks for doing the dishes,’ he shoots back and goes back to his shared room with Junsu and Yunho.

 

‘Was he checking up on us?’ asks Yunho, amused, his expression betraying nothing but how much he finds small Shim Changmin the cutest maknae.

 

But nothing else, thinks Jaejoong as he smiles around his cigarette. ‘I think he just wanted a drink, Yunho-ah.’

 

-

 

The first time Jaejoong touches Changmin – they’re back on the couch. Yoochun is taking a nap and Yunho is out with Heechul somewhere while Junsu takes a shower to get ready to hang out with Hyukjae later.

 

There’s a truce between them when it comes to music. Jaejoong pilfers the music stores around Seoul with Yoochun and brings home more CDs with his meagre paycheck. Later, he will show them to Changmin, sit side-by-side on the couch as they share headphones and try to follow along with the lyrics.

 

Sometimes Changmin will talk, make comparisons and draw upon how the vocalists sing sweet and slow in the beginning before the first guitar riff vibrates through the melody and the notes drop to something more rough and harsh – ‘like they smoke a pack a day,’ he says, not looking at Jaejoong.

 

Jaejoong throws an arm around Changmin’s shoulders and pretends he doesn’t notice that Changmin stiffens. He’s hyung though, so Changmin lets the arm rest there. He won’t in a few years – but for now, while Jaejoong is still tempting pretty, big-eyed lambs to slaughter, Changmin accepts the touch.

 

‘It does smell pretty bad,’ says Jaejoong, ‘but it’s also an addiction. Don’t you have one?’

 

‘No,’ replies Changmin quickly, ‘I’m not like you, hyung.’

 

Jaejoong lets it lie though a few choice words cycle through his mind. While they listen to the CD one more time, both of them wave goodbye to Junsu as he leaves, and Changmin’s shoulders are now relaxed under Jaejoong’s arm. The last song’s cymbals cease echoing in the earphones so Changmin takes them out, stopping the Walkman before it loops the CD again. ‘This one is good.’

 

‘Changmin-ah,’ starts Jaejoong, tilting his head and catching Changmin’s gaze against his will. ‘You’re not even addicted to the feeling of your hand on your cock?’

 

Changmin’s eyes widen, a blush spreading over his cheeks, before he’s scrambling to try to get away.

 

Jaejoong lets out a laugh – short and sharp – before his arms are pinning Changmin down against the couch, his legs heavy as he straddles Changmin’s thighs, fingers tight around the boy's wrists. ‘Don’t be shy.’

 

‘Don’t be a fucking creep!’ snarls Changmin, glaring up at him, eyes wide, terror blending so well with his anger.

 

‘Changmin-ah, I’m pretty, aren’t I?’

 

It makes Changmin pause in his squirming, frozen in place. ‘What?’

 

Jaejoong makes an impatient noise. ‘Do I not get you hard? Or is that just a right reserved for Yunnie?’

 

‘What the fuck do you think you’re saying about Yunho-hyung?’

 

‘That you like him – that you stand in the shower and get off on the thought of Yunho kissing you, telling you he loves you?’

 

Changmin’s face is twisted in disgust. ‘Fuck you, Jaejoong.’

 

Ah – an opening. Jaejoong tilts his head to the side. ‘Would you like to?’

 

It’s a few weeks before Changmin’s sixteenth birthday, but he still hasn’t figured out how to not wear his heart on his sleeve. Bewilderment is the first emotion that crosses his face, followed closely by disgust and horror and – ah, finally – _contemplation_ as his expression smoothes out.

 

‘I’ll make it good for you, Changminnie,’ murmurs Jaejoong, voice oh-so-gentle. ‘You can imagine it’s your beloved Yunho-hyung.’ He takes Changmin’s captured wrists and fits both of them in one hand before using his other hand to trail down Changmin’s shirt and tap at the button of his jeans.

 

‘You’re bluffing,’ says Changmin, sounding proud that he’s caught on. ‘You’re just doing this to humiliate me. You bastard.’ His body relaxes just a little under Jaejoong, egging him on. ‘Don’t embarrass yourself.’

 

‘Is that permission?’ replies Jaejoong. Distantly, he knows Yoochun could wake up at any point and walk in on them, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. Quickly, he unbuttons Changmin’s jeans, and wrenches the waistband down to Changmin’s thighs, taking in the white undershorts. ‘How cute.’

 

‘Go fuck yourself,’ snaps Changmin, staying still, watching Jaejoong, under some false impression that Jaejoong _wouldn’t_ fuck himself on Changmin’s dick. Well – joke’s on him. Jaejoong snaps the elastic waist of the undershorts against the skin of Changmin’s abdomen, who bares his teeth, waiting for Jaejoong to call chicken on his own game.

 

Instead, Jaejoong smiles at him sweetly before dipping his fingers underneath and palming Changmin’s soft cock. Immediately, Changmin’s legs thrash as he makes a surprised noise – ‘what the _fuck_ – ’ – and Jaejoong doesn’t stop.

 

‘Just stay still, Changmin-ah – haven’t you ever done it with someone else’s hand, hm?’ drawls Jaejoong, still jerking Changmin underneath, feeling the blood rush downwards and get the boy’s dick half-hard in his palm. ‘I promise it feels _so much better_ than your own fingers.’

 

By the time the first pearl of precome appears, Changmin is arching, a flush to his cheeks, his body straining under the weight of Jaejoong and how badly his cock is twitching as Jaejoong jerks him off.

 

Jaejoong can’t see it, but he can feel Changmin’s dick – how it’s longer rather than thick, with his soft balls drawing up close to his body, and the brush of hair around the base and on the inside of his thighs. Definitely old enough.

 

With focus and precision, Jaejoong spreads the precome down the length, lubricates the hot heat of his palm all the way down and back up again, feeling how the sensations make Changmin vibrate as he starts to fuck into Jaejoong’s fist. He’s going to come soon – too soon, in Jaejoong’s opinion – but Changmin is still young and unpracticed.

 

‘Fuck – fuck – ’ groans out Changmin, his hatred for himself and Jaejoong amplifying as Jaejoong works him over.

 

‘That’s right, Changmin-ah,’ says Jaejoong breathlessly, taking in the pretty sight of Changmin’s hair all disheveled and the sheen of sweat over his skin. Changmin bucks his hips, fucks hard into Jaejoong’s hand once, twice, and comes in a mess.

 

Jaejoong wipes the semen over the fabric of Changmin’s undershorts before letting go of Changmin’s wrist with his other hand. Changmin doesn’t move – boneless and upset. Silently, Jaejoong pulls up Changmin’s jeans and buttons them neatly before standing up. Yoochun’s Walkman has fallen to the carpet in their tussle, so he picks it up and puts away the CD in its case, cleaning it all as if Changmin isn’t still reeling from being jerked off against his will on the couch.

 

‘I hate you,’ he rasps when Jaejoong is finally walking out of the room.

 

Jaejoong half-turns and cups his crotch in his hand, moaning out. ‘Changmin-ah, I want you to fuck me next.’

 

It makes Changmin jerk and scowl before rolling onto his side, back to Jaejoong, legs drawing up so he can curl up into himself.

 

It’s childish and pathetic and Jaejoong can’t help the short laugh that escapes his mouth as he walks to his room to wake Yoochun up.

 

-

 

Yunho doesn’t notice that something is creeping and electric between his vocalists. That Changmin watches Jaejoong more fiercely, warily, his body strung tight in tension. Jaejoong doesn’t care, and goes on as always, meeting Changmin’s gazes with a half-smile, tempting him if he so wants – Changmin will come around eventually. After all, they’re meant to be – the both of them. The two boys helplessly in love with leader-sshi, but too sharp and mean to get him.

 

It happens a month after Changmin turns sixteen that February. Jaejoong smells it when he walks into the dorms after going out drinking with Hyunjoong in the morning. The shades are doing nothing to help his fight against sunlight when he opens the door to see Yunho also taking his shoes off.

 

‘Late night,’ yawns Jaejoong, kicking the door shut behind him. Yunho’s hair is messy and his clothes wrinkled, but he shoots Jaejoong a smile.

 

‘Yeah – was good, though.’

 

Jaejoong might still be a little drunk but he can’t mistake the smell of – oh, Yunho. Yunho, Yunho, Yunho. ‘You should take a shower, Yunho-ah,’ he drawls.

 

Yunho jerks back, surprised, smile fading. ‘Oh – is it that obvious?’

 

When they step past the hallway into the kitchen, Junsu and Changmin are already at the table, sniping at each other good-heartedly over respective bowls of rice and eggs. Yunho tries to shuffle out of the kitchen, self-conscious, when Junsu pins him down with a, ‘good night, Yunho?’

 

Yunho freezes and gives up, grinning. ‘Yeah, I had a great time.’

 

‘Did you go drinking?’ asks Changmin, chewing slowly as he takes in the sight of a well-fucked Yunho. Jaejoong wants to curl a hand around the boy’s neck, prepare him for the disappointment and the jealousy – but it’s too late.

 

‘No, Changminnie, he went out with a person,’ croons Junsu, propping his chin in his hand. ‘How many rounds, hyung?’

 

‘That,’ starts Yunho with a good-natured smile but a sternness to his voice that brooks no argument, ‘is none of your business, Junsu-ah.’ Finally, he disappears out of the kitchen to the hallway to take a shower, but the news has been broken.

 

Jaejoong pushes his sunglasses onto his head and snorts, looking at how Junsu resumes his meal but Changmin stares at the doorway of the kitchen where Yunho just left. There’s a myriad of emotions that well up from his chest that Jaejoong can imagine – surprise, jealousy, a yawning despair when he realizes that Yunho will never, ever look at him the way he sees Yunho.

 

-

 

There is cause, and there is consequence. Jaejoong waits and is rewarded.

 

It takes a week, but one Sunday morning, Changmin catches Jaejoong on the balcony with his pack of cigarettes, hair in disarray and a bathrobe wrapped around himself.

 

‘Jaejoong-hyung,’ he calls out. Jaejoong blinks owlishly before looking back over his shoulder, cigarette hanging from his lips.

 

‘Yes, Changmin?’

 

The spring air makes chills creep up Changmin’s bare, twig-thin legs, flicking the long edges of his hair against his neck. Vaguely, Jaejoong wonders if it tickles, before his attention is caught by the CD case held delicately between Changmin’s long, bone fingers. ‘Can we listen to this?’

 

Jaejoong flicks his gaze upwards and Changmin meets him head-on. He smiles – sweet and slow, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth with his fingers. ‘Of course.’

 

-

 

They get through three songs before Changmin hooks his leg over Jaejoong’s lap, Yoochun’s Walkman crashing to the floor. One day it’s going to break, but Jaejoong can’t even think of that right now when Changmin’s young fingers are shaking as he unties the belt around Jaejoong’s bathrobe, straddled in his lap.

 

‘Take your time, Changminnie, I’m not going anywhere,’ breathes out Jaejoong, tipping his head forward to skim his mouth over the still childish curve of Changmin’s cheek. It makes Changmin jerk and shift, his breath coming fast as he reveals the bared skin of Jaejoong’s torso and his underwear.

 

‘You want me, right?’ asks Changmin suddenly, voice fierce and eyes glinting. Jaejoong leans his head back against the couch and looks at him through half-lidded eyes, his hands skipping up Changmin’s thighs over his undershorts.

 

‘As much as you want me, Changminnie.’

 

‘I hate you.’

 

Jaejoong only grins, one hand on Changmin’s hip, the other dipping down to grasp Changmin’s half-hard cock. Changmin’s own hands hesitate at the waistband of Jaejoong’s undershorts, as if touching him will make this too real. ‘Scared, Changminnie?’

 

Changmin pauses, and then rasps, ‘no,’ before he shoves his hand down Jaejoong’s undershorts to stroke him. He jerks Jaejoong off how Jaejoong imagines Changmin does to himself. It’s tight and rough, just edging on painful; especially when Changmin flicks his thumbnail under the cockridge and pressing hard down on the leaking tip to spread the precome all along the shaft.

 

Jaejoong groans in appreciation, liking the edge of pain that goes with Changmin’s soft, bone-fingered hands working him over. Changmin is intent on getting Jaejong off as fast as possible, so Jaejoong only holds Changmin’s dick in his hand, unmoving, waiting until he finishes himself.

 

With a shift, Jaejoong lifts his ass upwards along with Changmin straddling his lap in order for Changmin to push his underwear down around his hips to bunch at his thighs. When Jaejoong finally sits back down, Changmin is watching the leaking head of Jaejoong’s cock, the way the precome shines in the sunlit air. The couch’s fabric chafes against Jaejoong’s skin, but he doesn’t care when he has Changmin entranced and focused like this, jerking him off with his fingers

 

‘Use your other hand, Changmin-ah, feels fuckin’ good,’ says Jaejoong, unabashed, and Changmin doesn’t stop his strokes, but his other hand is now playing with Jaejoong’s balls, tugging at them and making Jaejoong hiss and gasp out. Changmin’s hands are overeager, a little painful, and Jaejoong adores it in all its gracelessness and inexperience.

 

He moves his hips, tries to fuck into Changmin’s fist, and Changmin’s eyes flash as if surprised.

 

‘Don’t stop now, Changmin-ah,’ breathes out Jaejoong, ‘aren’t you going to let me come?’

 

Changmin looks up at him, his eyes wide and a little scared at how new this is. It makes Jaejoong want to laugh and pin him and down and _break_ him. Quickly, Changmin flicks his eyes down to Jaejoong’s leaking cock and twists his wrist on the upstroke.

 

It doesn’t take soon after that – not when Jaejoong is riding the high of corruption like this; the small scrawny boy with his awkwardness written in the arch of his spine giving in and jerking off the one he hates oh-so-much. Jaejoong groans and fucks into Changmin’s hand twice more before covering his fingers in come.

 

Changmin muffles a gasp, pulling his hands away immediately and marveling at the sticky semen on his skin, how the white threatened to blend in with his own paleness. He doesn’t get the chance to wipe it off when Jaejoong begins stroking Changmin off from under his shorts. Using his other hand, Jaejoong wrenches the fabric down to see Changmin’s small cock to match his slenderness, how it’s flushed and leaking, arcing upwards, betraying how hot Jaejoong must be in Changmin’s eyes despite all feelings to the contrary.

 

‘You can hate me all you want, Changmin-ah,’ whispers Jaejoong into his ears, making Changmin squirm and pant as his hips move to Jaejoong’s rhythm, ‘but you’ll still love this, and only I’ll give it to you – your precious Jaejoong-hyung.’ _Not Yunho_ hangs unsaid between them, where Changmin’s jealousy writhes deep and all he wants is to be noticed again.

 

The boy jerks and arches, his sticky fingers clawing into Jaejoong’s stomach as he loses it completely and comes all over himself, striping his shirt and Jaejoong’s hand. With a sigh, he slumps forward, eyes fluttering closed, as if simply giving up for now.

 

The weakness makes Jaejoong smile, catching Changmin against his chest and laying him down against the couch, shorts pulled back up around his hips to cover the mess of his cock. In the kitchen, he washes his hands and grabs a few tissues to clean Changmin’s fingers from Jaejoong’s come.

 

Changmin stirs, his eyes opening slightly – ‘get the fuck away from me.’

 

‘Not yet,’ smiles Jaejoong and continues to do as he pleases.

 

-

 

Soon after, Changmin gets plastic surgery for his nose, and Jaejoong’s first urge is to crush it under his hand, watch blood seep down Changmin’s chin and drip all over his shirt and shoes, staining him red from head to toe.

 

‘It looks good,’ they tell him when the facial cast finally comes off. It changes Changmin – makes him a little less unafraid to speak up, to yell, to spit insults when something bothers him. He’s the snarking maknae, the sarcastic, mean, bratty maknae now.

 

Jaejoong frowns – looking for those lamb-eyes again, but it’s hard to breach under the harsh exterior that Changmin is intent on putting up. Instead, he’s too busy teaching the rest of the band what scraps of Japanese he knows after Yunho comes home with a contract with AVEX in Japan.

 

‘We need to sing in Japanese now?’ asks Yoochun with a frown, ‘a year after our debut?’

 

‘Boa did it,’ points out Junsu.

 

‘Boa’s been doing this since the fourth grade,’ whines Changmin.

 

Junsu rolls his eyes, ‘anyway, Jaejoong-hyung – with your J-rock, don’t you know all this shit already?’

 

Jaejoong levels him with a glare. ‘Yeah, Junsu-ah, don’t you know all about sucking cock already.’

 

‘Fuck you.’

 

‘ _Moving on_ ,’ presses Yunho, ‘we’ll be attending lessons starting this Wednesday. Jaejoong, you already know a little bit, and it’d be really nice if you could help us out.’

 

They get enough syllables right to record a few songs before SM asks them to pack up and move into a shitty apartment in Japan for a few months.

 

-

 

Japan is simultaneously the most beautiful and worst place in the world.

 

The hiragana and katakana and kanji stuffs itself uncomfortably into Jaejoong’s mouth and crosses his eyes, but he loves this place in all its various dichotomies. How clean and precise the roads are lined up outside their tiny balcony as he hangs his legs between the railing and listens to how angry and rough the CDs are in the their downtime.

 

Their concerts are for a few hundred people every week – the band an unknown name and nothing to be concerned with. _Yet_ , whispers Yunho to them after each night. _Not yet_. Still, their apartment is full of hangul, full of the language of home, familiar when the outside seems intent on beating them down.

 

Jaejoong thinks he changes, but he can’t put his finger on it. Maybe he grows up, a little more mature – they all do. Changmin, however – that he sees like it’s written in black ink over his paper-pale skin.

 

Their _sessions_ , if that’s what Jaejoong can call them, are usually instigated by Changmin but ended with Jaejoong pinning the body underneath him. Changmin has a preference for it in his own bed. When Yoochun and Junsu have gone shopping and Yunho is getting things worked out with their manager at AVEX, Changmin will invite himself and Jaejoong into his and Junsu’s shared bedroom and lock the door.

 

Jaejoong sometimes sucks him off. Learns more about Changmin than he thought would ever be true. How Changmin resists but he loves – oh, how he _loves_ – when Jaejoong’s teeth skim and bite against the skin of his cock, and how he’ll pant and keen when Jaejoong’s nails sink into his hipbones.

 

They’re perfect for each other, thinks Jaejoong – Changmin the eager slut for pain, and Jaejoong who wants nothing more than to fuck him up.

 

Sometimes, Changmin will straddle Jaejoong’s lap and feel how Jaejoong’s grip forces him to grind his ass down on Jaejoong’s half-hard cock, how Jaejoong dictates the pace and how rough and filthy he gets.

 

‘Are you scared, Changminnie?’ sneers Jaejoong in his ear. ‘Cause you don’t know anything yet? Still a fucking kid.’

 

‘Fuck you,’ he spits out, breathless and groaning, back arching as his cock grinds extra hard against Jaejoong’s abdomen. ‘Just letting hyung do all the work.’

 

Jaejoong shuts him up at these times by nibbling at Changmin’s collarbone, scraping his teeth down the long line of his neck and tugging at his nipples. He likes seeing Changmin shirtless – his ribs pressing out from under his skin despite the faint lines of muscles that are appearing over his body.

 

In the haze of arousal, Changmin will let Jaejoong strip him completely naked, unresisting to the scratch of Jaejoong’s jeans when they scrape against his skin. He likes lying down against the sheets, splayed out for Jaejoong to play with to his heart’s content, interweaving his gentleness with pricks of pain.

 

He will ease the idea to Changmin; will show him the beauty of blooming bruises and how the pain will make every nerve in his body tingle with want for more. For now, Jaejoong settles with stinging bites and scratches, smoothed over with the warm, wet heat of his tongue.

 

Japan is the worst place but also the best – for its music and its food and the dichotomies of its clean streets and its screaming youth, for Changmin all fierce to prove himself but succumbing so sweetly under Jaejoong’s clawed hands.

 

It’s almost disappointing when they leave.

 

-

 

The first time Jaejoong hits Changmin, its four months before Changmin turns seventeen.

 

Yunho gets veneers for his crooked teeth and it makes him irritable and even more of a hard-ass than his workaholic previous self. Jaejoong swings between loving Yunho and hating him absolutely over the past few weeks.

 

How Yunho makes them practice their lines for longer, judges their voices and makes them record songs over and over. How Yunho has them memorize their scripts for their interviews, and wakes them up too early in the morning to get ready to practice before their shows. How Yunho has trapped them here in the dance studio at an hour too late – making them  run through the choreography again and again, sweat dripping down their necks.

 

It’s not enough, it’s not _perfect_ , emphasizes Yunho for the sixth time – or maybe the tenth, thirteenth, Jaejoong _doesn’t fucking care_. It’s enough of an excuse to hit the repeat button on the stereo system and hear the music loop once more, Yunho taking position to make them dance through it for the umpteenth as if they’re not all exhausted, dehydrated, dying.

 

‘No, Changmin,’ says Yunho, ‘you need to move to the left, not the right. _Remember_.’ And it’s a gentle scolding by all means, but Jaejoong is tired and fucking annoyed by everything going on. His bones ache and his muscles feel stretched thin and he hates the bruises of exhaustion that press under Yoochun’s eyes from this sort of exercise.

 

Changmin’s face crumples and he tries again. They get through the first two minutes fine, but then Yunho shifts to the side and Changmin screws up. Again.

 

‘Changmin – ’ starts Yunho, voice a little muffled from the plastic in his mouth, but Jaejoong snaps.

 

‘ _No_ – fuck this.’ He crosses the wooden boards and Changmin turns his tired, guilty gaze onto him. For a split-second, Jaejoong thinks of how young Changmin is, how he fits uncomfortably under his own skin, how he doesn’t know where his limbs are going when he grows up too fast under spotlights and makeup covering his flaws.

 

For a split second, Jaejoong thinks, ‘Changmin is just a child,’ before his fist collides into Changmin’s arm and hears the kid gasp out in pain before stumbling away. ‘Practice alone.’ He turns to face Yunho, ‘I’m fucking done here. Yoochun, we’re going.’

 

‘Jaejoong!’ says Yunho – voice loud and order clear, but Jaejoong shoots him a murderous look before he grabs his backpack, along with Yoochun’s, and storms out of there, Yoochun following close behind.

 

‘Let’s just go home and go to bed,’ he sighs, and slumps miserably against Yoochun’s arm around his waist, holding him close.

 

‘Thanks,’ murmurs Yoochun into Jaejoong’s sweaty mess of his hair, and Jaejoong leans on him all the way back. When he takes a shower, his knuckles feel sore and he stretches his hand out, feels how the span of his palm could engulf Changmin whole.

 

Jaejoong wants to say he regrets it now that his temper has cooled, but all he knows is that he wants to see what Changmin’s skin looks like afterwards when he pulls his sleeve up – if it’s just a red mark that will fade away by morning, or – _oh_ – if it’s bruised and purpling and pulls at Changmin’s nerves every time he moves his arm for the next week, like a reminder.

 

-

 

For the first week, Changmin flinches and stays away and practices alone after hours to get the choreography right. He doesn’t sleep well if the bags under his eyes are any indication, but he keeps up with the rest of the band, his mistakes erased through sheer focus and effort.

 

Vaguely, Jaejoong wonders if Changmin will stay short as he is – bogged down by his own lack of food and rest and an overabundance of stress. All these frail limbs and twig-thin bones, his mouth too wide and pink for the hard look that sometimes gets in his eyes.

 

Another week passes – Changmin skittish and strung tight – before Junsu manages to rope them all onto the couch to watch some movie or another. ‘We can’t go out,’ he says in justification, ‘so we might as well stay in,’ and it’s enough.

 

Jaejoong wishes he remembers what the movie was about, curled between the arm of the couch and Yoochun. Yunho is on the other side, and Junsu sits on the floor beside Changmin, his head tipped back for Yunho’s long fingers to brush through his hair idly while watching the storyline unfold on screen. Changmin follows Junsu’s example and leans against Yoochun’s warm leg, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, while Yoochun scratches softly at the space behind Changmin’s ear like a puppy.

 

If Jaejoong focuses, he can see the small ripple of shivers that spread over Changmin’s skin and down his spine, and the lolling of his head as if he’s ready to fall asleep. An hour into the movie, Junsu pauses to go to the bathroom and Yunho offers to make more popcorn for their empty bowl. Yoochun nods, still petting Changmin, when Jaejoong narrows his eyes and decides to ruin this moment.

 

‘Isn’t our maknae cute?’ he croons, ‘like our own tiny puppy.’

 

‘Jaejoong,’ frowns Yoochun, his fingers stilling and eliciting a whine from Changmin’s throat before he can stop it.

 

‘Don’t stop petting him,’ scolds Jaejoong, eyes glittering and not watching Yoochun at all.

 

Changmin rouses and looks over his shoulder at Jaejoong, blinking the sleepiness from his eyes. ‘Shut up.’

 

‘I’m sorry, Changminnie,’ he mocks, ‘Don’t bite; I’ll come pet you too.’

 

He reaches out and Changmin’s eyes widen then narrow. Before Jaejoong realizes it – his hand is stinging from being knocked away so hard by Changmin’s fist as Changmin’s mouth moves, ‘I said _shut up_.’

 

There’s a pause and Jaejoong retracts his hand, dropping it in his lap, watching the other, seeing the transformation on Changmin’s face from anger to fear. Now, Changmin’s eyes are widewide _wide_ and _oh-so-terrified_ when it becomes clear what he’s done. He’s hit his hyung, and _Jaejoong_ -hyung of all people. Distantly, Jaejoong hears Yunho stepping around in the kitchen and the rush of water as Junsu washes his hands in the bathroom. Beside him, Yoochun has gone stiff, watching between Changmin and Jaejoong.

 

‘Okay,’ acquiesces Jaejoong, his voice deadly soft and promising nothing but a world of pain. ‘I guess puppy can bite back too.’

 

Changmin swallows and tries to steel himself, curled up under his blanket. ‘Fuck you, hyung.’

 

‘You know how I feel about that.’

 

‘Feel about what?’ asks Junsu as he steps into the living room, Yunho following close behind with a now full bowl.

 

‘Nothing,’ interjects Yoochun quietly. ‘Jaejoong’s being an ass.’

 

‘I’m just teasing,’ murmurs Jaejoong, leaning against Yoochun, wrapping an arm around his best friend’s shoulders and tucking himself close. Halfway through the movie, Changmin falls asleep on Junsu’s shoulder, who is dozing against Yunho’s leg. Yoochun is also napping against Jaejoong’s side, his face smoothed out, and Jaejoong has no heart to wake him up.

 

‘Let’s get them to bed,’ says Yunho as he gets up and then kneels down in front of Junsu, stroking his cheek softly. ‘Junsu-ah.’

 

Jaejoong’s eyes skitter away from the scene that looks too intimate for words. Eventually, Junsu and Changmin are roused and led away by Yunho to their beds, while Jaejoong lays Yoochun down along the couch, curled up beside him with a blanket drawn over them both. Yoochun will complain about backaches and Jaejoong’s morning breath in a few hours, but for now, Jaejoong keeps him near.

 

-

 

It takes three days. Jaejoong is lazing about in bed with earphones and one of Yoochun’s old trash mags from the convenience store around the corner when someone knocks on the door.

  

Immediately, he knows who it is because Yoochun lives with Jaejoong, Yunho has zero concept of privacy in the dorms, and Junsu doesn’t give a fuck.

 

‘Changmin-ah,’ he calls out, and the door opens and lets the boy in - his hair mussed and his undershorts and oversized t-shirt wrinkled. The arch of his exposed ankles and wrists beg to be gripped and sprained and bruised, but Jaejoong keeps to himself as Changmin quietly shuts the door behind him and takes one teetering step, then another.

 

‘Stop it,’ he rasps out, finally.

 

‘Stop what?’ asks Jaejoong with a smile, tossing the magazine aside and taking out his earphones. This is much more interesting.

 

‘Making me wait.’ Changmin sucks in a breath, his eyes glittering with hatred and fear. ‘I hit you and I know you didn’t forget, so do what you want and stop making me wait for – for whatever you’re going to do.’

 

‘Do you want me to hit you back?’ suggests Jaejoong. He pauses, takes a breath. ‘Or do you want to go back to old times?’

 

Remembrance flashes over Changmin’s face and the frisson of lust that ripples down his body is unmistakable. It seems little Changminnie missed this. Jaejoong gestures to the space on the bed beside him. ‘Come here.’ It’s not a suggestion.

 

Changmin squirms with indecision before pressing forward, towards Jaejoong, who only smiles in invitation. The magazine and Walkman are pushed to the floor, and Jaejoong is enclosing his fingers over Changmin’s thin biceps, drawing him close.

 

Like this, Changmin kneeling between Jaejoong’s legs as they both sit on the bedspread, Jaejoong can count all of Changmin’s lashes, the dryness of his pink lips, the way his adam’s apple bobs as he tries to swallow down his fear and anticipation. Jaejoong lets out a soft noise from the back of his throat – Changmin is such a gorgeous little mess of a boy.

 

‘May I?’

 

‘May you what?’ asks Changmin, his voice too loud, making him shut his jaw with a click.

 

‘Kiss you.’

 

‘No – that’s – ’ He seems to struggle with himself for an answer.

 

‘For Yunho-hyung?’ mocks Jaejoong.

 

‘Fuck you, hyung,’ snaps Changmin.

 

‘About that.’ He pulls back, hands skimming upwards to curl around Changmin’s china-glass neck. ‘You want to, don’t you?’ Changmin sucks in a sharp breath in surprise, but doesn’t reply, so Jaejoong presses on, ‘I’ll let you. Get on my knees and let you slide your pretty cock inside of me. You’ve never done it - so there won’t be a condom.’ He lets out a soft moan, ‘It’d feel _so good_ with your come leaking out of me.’

 

Changmin’s breath stutters in his throat. ‘You’re lying.’

 

‘There _is_ a catch,’ nods Jaejoong, one hand tracing along the curve of Changmin’s jawline and corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll let you fuck me only if I get to fuck you afterwards.’

 

‘No,’ he replies immediately, then bites his bottom lip as if in regret. ‘Not. Not on the same day.’

 

‘Of course not,’ soothes Jaejoong, moving his fingers to tickle Changmin’s nape with his fingers, playing with the curling edges of his too-long hair. ‘So are you going to fuck me or not?’

 

Changmin inhales sharply, hands coming up to play with the hem of Jaejoong’s shirt, his eyes wide and searching. Jaejoong raises his arms above his head and lets Changmin take off his shirt, throwing the cotton over the side of the bed.

 

Jaejoong knows he’s beautiful – he’s always known – and seeing Changmin take him in, his long, twig fingers brushing over his defined torso. ‘Going to get a tattoo there,’ breathes out Jaejoong, a half-smile playing on his mouth. Changmin flicks his eyes up, pressing his hand fully against the other’s chest and flicking his thumb against the nipple. Jaejoong makes a soft noise, ‘ _ah_ ,’ and Changmin’s gaze turns hungry as his pupils bloom.

 

‘I’ll kiss you one day,’ warns Jaejoong when he leans forward but Changmin ducks his head, licking along Jaejoong’s collarbone. Changmin makes a muffled noise, fingers playing with Jaejoong’s nipples as he laves his tongue over Jaejoong’s neck.

 

It’s overeager and wet, virginal in every sense, and Jaejoong revels in it. This corruption of little Shim Changmin, dying his white wool in the red-green-black of lust-envy-hate. He arches his spine, pushes into the touch even as he lies back against the sheets, and lets Changmin trail his mouth downwards to scrape his teeth over Jaejoong’s abdominal muscles.

 

Reaching down, Jaejoong hooks his fingers into Changmin’s shirt, pulling at it. Changmin lifts up his head – his still-round cheeks red and flushed, wide mouth wet, long hair a mess – and Jaejoong groans aloud, unable to take how fucking _innocent_ Changmin is, how fucking _corruptible_.

 

‘C’mon, get to it,’ says Jaejoong, hips doing a shimmy in indication. ‘Get fucking naked.’

 

If Changmin was older, more experienced, Jaejoong can imagine the smug little smile he would get all, ‘hyung, you want it so bad,’ but now – oh. Now Changmin is sixteen and stuttering and he obeys Jaejoong without a beat of hesitation, his fingers retreating from Jaejoong’s skin to strip himself down.

 

Free of Changmin, Jaejoong kicks off his pants and underwear, his body naked and on display – all pale skin and carved from hours at the gym and dance practice. It makes Changmin inhale sharply, his gaze unblinking as he takes Jaejoong in while his own body – so deliriously _small_ – gets back on the bed.

 

This, Jaejoong groans when Changmin wraps his hand around his dick – this Changmin has had practice with. This Changmin could do by now – jerk him off how he liked it, long strokes, flicking at his cockhead, spreading his precome all down the shaft and back up again. Jaejoong breathes and rolls his hips into Changmin’s rhythm, reveling in the feel of the soft skin.

 

‘Want me to ride you, Changminnie?’ murmurs Jaejoong, with a half-stifled moan. ‘Or do you want me on my back, hm?’ Changmin doesn’t reply, his own cock hard and leaking between his thighs as he strokes Jaejoong off. ‘No – I think I’m going to get on my knees, you’ll like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking your hyung with his ass in the air.’

 

‘Hyung,’ gasps out Changmin, gaze intense, and Jaejoong loves how easy it is rile him up. He bats Changmin’s hands away from his cock and gets off the bed to grab his lube shoved somewhere underneath the mattress. When he finds it, he’s already back on the bed, three fingers slicked up.

 

‘Watch and learn, Changminnie,’ Jaejoong gasps out, balanced on his knees and forearm, other hand circling his hole with the lube. Eventually, he slides the first finger inside of him and moans at the familiar burn of resistance. ‘Feels fuckin’ good.’ It takes a minute or two for Jaejoong to slide in the next  digit, pushing at the fluttering rim of his hole, stretching himself out.

 

He feels the heat of Changmin’s body at his thighs, the claws of his overeager hands clutching at the flesh of Jaejoong’s ass as he watches Jaejoong fuck himself open. Jaejoong muffles his laughter against the sheets as the third finger pushes in, getting him more than ready for Changmin’s slender cock.

 

‘Fuck me,’ he pants when he finally pulls out his hand and braces his forearm against the bed. Changmin makes a desperate noise and gets on his knees behind Jaejoong, pressing the tip of his leaking dick against the hole, pushing in achingly slow.

 

Jaejoong would give points to the care Changmin enters him, but apparently Changmin’s self-control only lasts until he’s finally seated balls-deep. The moment Jaejoong moans out a, ‘yeah, that’s good’, Changmin loses his mind. Jaejoong feels the desperate scratch of Changmin’s fingers against his hips as begins to fuck hard and rough into Jaejoong’s hole, only trying to get to his orgasm as fast as he can.

 

Eventually, Changmin drapes his chest along Jaejoong’s back, his breath hot against the back of Jaejoong’s neck as his cock jabs into him repeatedly. ‘Hyung – fuck – ’ he groans, unable to restrain himself, and Jaejoong revels in it – how greedy and selfish and childish it is. How it’s so perfectly _Changmin_ to fuck someone for himself and Jaejoong’s hot, tight ass just driving him closer and closer to his own edge.

 

Jaejoong licks his mouth and reaches back, cups his sack and traces the smoothed, stretched skin around his hole and Changmin keeps bucking into him, his voice whining from his throat. It’s obviously too much for him – and Jaejoong resigns himself to having an ass full of come but no orgasm for himself.

 

Still, it feels good, even if Changmin doesn’t know what he’s doing. It feels good to have a cock in his ass again, stretching him open, grazing his prostate with each haphazard thrust. Changmin sobs, his balls drawing up as his orgasm begins to crest. Jaejoong bites his lip, pushing his hips back to meet Changmin’s thrusts and then clenching his ass on each downstroke, savouring the way Changmin’s cock rubs against his rim.

 

‘Going to come?’ gasps out Jaejoong, his hips moving in tandem with Changmin’s. Changmin buries his face in the space between Jaejoong’s shoulder blades, hips snapping in short, deep jabs that Jaejoong wishes were a little rougher, a little harder, but Changmin would learn in time, he was sure.

 

‘Jae – Jaejoong-hyung – ’ yips Changmin, breathless, and Jaejoong groans at the innocent noise.

 

‘Come inside me, Changminnie, you can – do it.’

 

Changmin sobs against the skin of Jaejoong’s back before he does just that, his cock pulsing out ropes of come, striping the inside of Jaejoong till he’s full of it. With another wrenching gasp, Changmin pulls out, falling on his ass as Jaejoong arches his back all cat-like.

 

Curiously, Jaejoong reaches back and dips a finger into his hole, drawing out a line of come, and moans appreciatively at the sight, before he’s flipping himself onto his back and gesturing at his still hard cock. ‘Bad bedside manner, Changminnie. You didn’t make hyung come.’

 

The boy looks fucked out and exhausted, his hair stuck to his cheeks and forehead, a flush painted over his face and down his neck, his skin glittering under the low light of the room. Jaejoong watches as Changmin tries to wet his dry mouth again, tongue flickering out to lick at the sweat on his top lip.

 

‘Suck me,’ says Jaejoong breathlessly, entranced by that mouth – so wide and pink. He’s sucked Changmin off a couple times, swallowed down his bitter come and licked around his softening cock until Changmin was hissing and writhing against the bed, but Changmin has never returned the favour. Until now, that is.

 

Changmin seems to ponder arguing, but Jaejoong pierces him with a look that brooks no argument. Swallowing, the boy slides his hands over the inside of Jaejoong’s thighs before he ducks down his head and sticks out his tongue to gauge distance.

 

With a flickering touch, he licks Jaejoong’s precome before suckling down the cockhead and sucking eagerly. It’s the same way Jaejoong sucks off Changmin, and Jaejoong wants to award him for his observation skills even when he’s keening and whining to come already.

 

It’s even more impressive when Changmin’s hand grasps the base while the other fondles Jaejoong’s sack, rolling one ball then the other in his warm palm. Jaejoong groans, waiting for the exact moment to do what he wants. For now, he lets Changmin bob his head shallowly as he takes in the first half of Jaejoong’s dick, his hands doing the rest of the work by stroking and tugging gently, urging Jaejoong’s orgasm forward.

 

Eventually, even the sloppiest blowjobs elicit a reaction and Jaejoong is panting to how Changmin licks down the shaft and back up again, his hair ticking Jaejoong’s cock, lines of saliva connecting his flushed bottom lip to the dick.

 

Jaejoong’s hips jerk when Changmin’s other hand goes too far and nudges against his still-stretched hole, and Changmin flinches when the cockhead almost hits his eye. His lashes flicker closed and Jaejoong almost blows his load at the sight – of sixteen year old Changmin with a dick in his hands, mouth red and slick, a line of precome connecting his fucking eyelashes to the leaking head of Jaejoong’s cock.

 

‘Fuck, put your mouth on me, Changminnie,’ orders Jaejoong roughly, and Changmin opens up and swallows him down into that glorious wet warmth. Jaejoong props himself up on one elbow and threads his fingers into Changmin’s hair, taking a grip. ‘Going to come in your fucking mouth.’

 

Changmin’s eyes widen and he tries to pull off, but Jaejoong’s always been stronger than him. He pushes Changmin’s mouth down, groans as the cockhead hits the back of Changmin’s throat and keeps fucking into the boy’s mouth, trying to get so fucking deep down his throat.

 

The lack of air makes Changmin gag and he’s struggling, arching his back, his nails scratching deep into Jaejoong’s hips and thighs, but it’s no use and Jaejoong keeps at it, stuffing himself in and back out, savouring the wetness and how fucking debauched Changmin looks like this – how Yunho would fucking cry to see their maknae with a cock down his throat, choking on it.

 

‘Yes, yes, fuck,’ gasps out Jaejoong, and Changmin has gone still, his eyes half-lidded and glazed over as he lets Jaejoong use his mouth up. Oh, he was right – he was so fucking right – Changmin would learn to love this. Little Shim Changmin who didn’t understand why pain and hurt made his cock twitch and leak and why he always came back to Jaejoong.

 

He comes with a loud groan, pumping Changmin’s mouth full of his load, and Changmin seems to come back to life, sputtering and pulling back. This time, Jaejoong lets go of his grip on Changmin’s hair and sees the boy almost throw himself to the other side of the bed, staring at Jaejoong with brows drawn together in sheer hatred.

 

There’s a line of come from the corner of his mouth to his chin and Jaejoong leans forward, ignoring Changmin’s flinch, to wipe it off with his thumb and then lick it off. ‘Indirect kiss, Changminnie,’ he murmurs with a smile. ‘That was so good.’

 

‘You – I couldn’t breathe – ’ rasps Changmin instead, his throat sore and fucked-out.

 

‘Oh Changminnie,’ sighs Jaejoong as if he’s disappointed in him, ‘you liked it.’

 

Changmin doesn’t reply and Jaejoong can almost taste the self-loathing roiling in the pit of Changmin’s stomach, amidst the acidity of his confusion and his own twitching cock, how choking on dick made him feel like he was sinking into somewhere where his head was all white-noise and nothing could hurt him. Oh, they were definitely meant to be – precious, darling, submissive Changmin and his toying, dominating hyung.

 

‘Need me to help clean up?’ offers Jaejoong with a smile, and gets the expected shake of Changmin’s head.

 

In five minutes, Changmin has scrubbed off the come and spit from his body using Jaejoong’s shirt like a last ‘fuck you, hyung’ before he’s dressed back in his pajamas and leaving Jaejoong’s room without a single look back.

 

So independent, thinks Jaejoong, falling back against the bed, one leg raised so he can feel his ass and how Changmin’s come leaks out of him slowly. So fucking breakable.

 

-

 

Yoochun asks him about it one day.

 

‘Are you… doing something with Changmin-ah?’ he says as Jaejoong catnaps with his head in Yoochun’s lap, splayed along the couch.

 

‘Doin’ what, Chunnie?’

 

Yoochun hesitates. ‘Something Changmin doesn’t want?’

 

Jaejoong slowly opens his eyes, throwing a reassuring grin to Yoochun. ‘God – I’m not a _monster_. We don’t do anything – and even if we did, why would it be something he doesn’t like? I _adore_ Changmin.’

 

‘Jaejoong,’ murmurs Yoochun, clearly disbelieving. ‘Don’t fuck it up.’

 

The smile slips from Jaejoong’s mouth and he watches Yoochun’s face peering down at him. ‘I’m just teaching Changmin a few things. From hyung to maknae.’

 

Eventually, even Yoochun must relent. ‘Okay,’ he says, stroking Jaejoong’s hair, before smiling, ‘so have you studied for our driver’s license yet?’

 

‘Fuck off!’ groans Jaejoong, burying his face in Yoochun’s stomach.

 

-

 

Three things change in the following year.

 

The first – Yunho gets his veneers taken off and resumes life as a slightly-easier-but-no-less-of-a-hard-ass leader, which is a relief. It also makes him more relaxed for whenever Jaejoong smacks Changmin in the arm for fucking something up – either as a joke or serious. And – glorious, happy Yunho – doesn’t interfere when Changmin punches back, anger in his young eyes.

 

The courage that losing your virginity could give you, muses Jaejoong as he rubs the bruise on his bicep later that day. Soon, it becomes just a band quirk, a DBSK quirk – old but childish hyung Jaejoong and short-tempered, snarking maknae Changmin who shower each other in a flurry of physical violence for no apparent reason.

 

‘It’s a sign of love,’ sneers Jaejoong at the camera, lying delightedly through his teeth, and Changmin follows up with it, unable to show any weakness, not even in this petty competition.

 

‘The harder we hit, the more we love,’ he adds, and accepts the arm Jaejoong throws around his neck, almost choking him. Oh, but Changmin loves it – so so much, no matter how much he tries to push it down and deny it.

 

The second – the one and only time they risk fucking up and getting noticed is when Changmin is sleeping in the van and Yunho asks Jaejoong to go wake him up and get him inside the building soon.

 

It’s the image of Changmin, with his child’s face, his long lashes and rosy cheeks and plush mouth, sleeping peacefully against the backseat of the van that cripples Jaejoong’s self-restraint. He wants it – so fucking bad. The urge to drip the black of wrong-bad-awful things on Changmin’s white life, a Rorschach inkblot painting of sin all over him.

 

He leans forward and doesn’t even breathe when he presses his mouth against Changmin’s, stealing away his first and only kiss, Yunho’s kiss.

 

Immediately, Changmin’s eyes fly open, jerking back even against the seat, and Jaejoong pulls away quick before Changmin can blacken his eye. ‘Good morning, Changminnie.’

 

‘You – you – ’ gapes Changmin, sliding the pads of his fingers over his mouth. ‘You fucking _bastard_.’ His voice quivers in his throat. ‘That wasn’t for you.’

 

‘We’re waiting in the building next door, by the way,’ says Jaejoong, ignoring the words. ‘Hurry up.’

 

‘Jaejoong,’ snarls Changmin and his eyes are _shining_ as if that kiss was so precious to him. As if he’s been kissed by the plague, by the devil. Jaejoong laughs breathlessly in excitement and watches as Changmin scrambles out of his seat to get the fuck away from Jaejoong.

 

What Jaejoong doesn’t expect is that three minutes later, the rest of the band escorting a crying Changmin back to the van, and Yunho turning an expectant stare at Jaejoong.

 

‘He’s been saying you kissed him, Jaejoong.’

 

Jaejoong’s eyes flash towards Changmin, who has buried his face in his hands and gulping down air before gasping it out in some ugly silent form of crying. So he told.

 

‘He was just so cute,’ pouts Jaejoong, sliding on his mask of charm, the one that he knows makes Yunho give in. ‘Not anymore – but you should’ve seen him, Yunho.’

 

‘Well,’ sighs Yunho, lips thinning out as he looks at the hiccupping Changmin next to Junsu. ‘It’s too late now. Just. Don’t do it again.’

 

‘Of course. Why would I?’ Out of the corner of his eye, Yoochun is watching him and Jaejoong forces another smile. ‘So I guess we’re going back to the dorms then?’

 

‘Manager’s coming soon. Can’t do anything right now except take care of Changdol,’ replies Yunho before he hustles them into their seats and curls beside Changmin, petting the boy’s hair until he falls asleep on Yunho’s shoulder.

 

See? It was good for something, Jaejoong wants to say, but he just turns back in his own seat and looks out the window.

 

Two days later, Jaejoong corners Changmin alone in the kitchen, caging him against the counter, his face smoothed out to cold anger, and Changmin freezes instantly, meeting the gaze with his jaw clenched tight, fear leaking out of him to the point that Jaejoong feels like he could taste it on his tongue, swallow it down like a fine drink.

 

‘Are you going to tell Yunho about us? The rest of them?’ asks Jaejoong, deadly serious.

 

Changmin swallows. ‘No.’

 

‘Then don’t be so fucking weak next time,’ and Jaejoong is surging forward, a hand on Changmin’s cheek, holding his face still with his strength, feeling how Changmin tries to pull away but he can’t. Pathetic, small Changmin.

 

Without another noise, Jaejoong tips his head forward and kisses Changmin again, featherlight and soft, and Changmin exhales slowly, not giving in. Not _yet_.

 

The third – and most important thing – is that Jaejoong doesn’t fuck Changmin until he’s seventeen. In the meantime, he does everything else while Yunho goes out with his anonymous string of girlfriends and boyfriends, comes home reeking of sex, with marks on his skin if his shirt slips up too high or Junsu makes a comment on it.

 

It’s not just Yunho – Yoochun and Junsu date and fuck, keep it private, intensely aware of the cameras around them at all times as they make their discretions as quiet as possible. Sometimes Yoochun will ask him curiously why Jaejoong hasn’t fucked anyone in the past few months, or dated for that matter, and Jaejoong shrugs.

 

‘I just don’t feel like it,’ he says, as if his libido isn’t sated by having Changmin laid out on his sheets, his skin marked up in red bite marks and nail scratches, his cock an arched, leaking symbol of his desire even when he spits out curses with his moans and gasps.

 

He lets Changmin fuck him on his knees once more, filling him with ropes of come that will leak out as the day goes by, slink down the inside of Jaejoong’s thigh as a shivering reminder of who he’s ruining inside out.

 

One night, when Yoochun and Junsu are attending a party and Yunho might be asleep in the room next door – Jaejoong’s not sure but he doesn’t care – Jaejoong rides Changmin. It’s wonderfully worth it when Changmin looks up at him with a mixture of lust and wonderment as Jaejoong fucks himself onto the boy’s cock till Changmin comes with a loud gasp – edging to a wail. Jaejoong stuff two fingers into Changmin’s mouth, muffling him, as he feels his ass milk Changmin’s cock, twisting his hips to savour how the come feels inside of him.

 

Changmin is whimpering around his fingers, as if Jaejoong can’t hear him, and he pretends he doesn’t, keeps rocking onto the soft length. Not a few minutes later, and Changmin’s eyes are shut with overstimulation as his cock gets hard again – youth’s advantages. So Jaejoong rides him once more – the pleasure edging on painful for Changmin – until he feels himself pumped full of warm semen again, but this time he’s stroking himself and comes all over Changmin’s concave stomach, complimenting the lines of Changmin’s heaving rib cage as the boy tries to catch his breath.

 

It takes three more times of Jaejoong not coming when Changmin fucks him, leaving bruises on Changmin’s skin as he manhandles the other, before Changmin learns to get on his knees in advance. After all, Jaejoong’s favourite past-time if he doesn’t come is to use Changmin’s mouth for it. Even voluntarily on his knees, Changmin pretends he hates it, with drool all down his chin, glaring up through dampened lashes at Jaejoong, who grips his hair.

 

Jaejoong smiles down at him, hips fucking into Changmin’s mouth, sighing, ‘yeah – fuck, your mouth is only good for one thing, Changminnie,’ and he pulls Changmin close, feels the boy’s throat flutter deliciously over Jaejoong’s cockhead, ‘and it’s sure as fuck not kissing.’

 

Changmin leaves claw marks from his nails over Jaejoong’s hips in retaliation as he sucks his dick like a good slut, inhaling sharply from his nose as he works to make Jaejoong come as soon as possible and end this. Eventually, Changmin will give in, and that’s Jaejoong’s favourite part – when the lack of air gets Changmin light-headed, his eyes going half-lidded as he sinks into himself, transforming into a wet hole for Jaejoong to fuck and use up.

 

It’s obvious that Changmin doesn’t know what’s happening to him, why he gives in to the pain and hurt, his jaw aching as he licks all down the underside of Jaejoong’s dick, drinking the precome like ambrosia. It’s times like these that Jaejoong appreciates the learning curve of the youth, how quickly they can catch on.

 

‘Take it,’ groans Jaejoong as he keeps grinding his dick in the wet mouth, fingers threading through Changmin’s hair, seeing the dazed, spaced out look on the boy’s face, and it’s enough for Jaejoong to blow his load, ‘such a gorgeous fucking slut.’

 

True to word, Changmin drinks it all down and pulls off Jaejoong’s cock, his consciousness swimming back to the surface behind his eyes, his mouth puffed and swollen, tear streaks down his cheeks, hair stuck to his skin with sweat, his collarbone jutting out as he gasps for air, reviving himself.

 

‘So fucking beautiful,’ smiles Jaejoong, cupping Changmin’s cheekbone and brushing his thumb over the arch, until Changmin shudders violently and realizes what he’s done, what he’s given in to.

 

With a jerk, Changmin pulls away and wipes at his mouth, glaring at him. ‘Fuck off.’

 

With a dismissal like that, Jaejoong shrugs, pulling back on his clothes and watching the cold air wrap itself around Changmin’s white bone body. Idly, he wonders if Changmin feels a little cold, a little lonely, craving for a love that he knows he will never have. It makes Jaejoong want to coo, and push Changmin against the sheets with a hand around that fragile throat.

 

Instead, he closes the door to Changmin’s room behind him and goes to find the shower.

 

-

 

For a little while, Jaejoong backs off as he thinks of all the ways he’s going to fuck little Shim Changmin until the boy’s sobbing against his bed. Yoochun gladly invites him to parties and figuring out their driver’s licenses – they’ve only failed the tests twice now, there’s still a chance.

 

Jaejoong asks the stylists to pierce his ears up along the cartilage and shows off his new tattoos to Junsu in the kitchen after they’ve healed. Of course, Junsu laughs at him, fingers tracing the words against Jaejoong’s shoulder blades as the cold air tickles his bare skin.

 

Yunho walks in on them, as does Changmin, and Jaejoong arches his back, preening under this new attention. ‘Do you like it?’

 

‘Where’s our names?’ asks Yunho with a laugh, tucking himself against Junsu’s back and reaching out to trace their band name – T V f X Q – emblazoned on the skin in fancy English lettering.

 

‘There’s five letters isn’t there?’ snaps Jaejoong.

 

Junsu glances over at Changmin, who is standing a bit aways, watching from a distance. ‘Jaejoong’s turning into one of those J-rock guys that you guys listen to, isn’t he?’

 

Changmin blinks, then gives a belated nod. ‘Wasn’t he always?’

 

It makes Junsu burst into laughter, and Jaejoong pouts at him, turning around. Suddenly he feels the touch of warm fingers against his chest and Yunho is tracing over the slogan inscribed across his pectoral. _Always keep the faith_. Immediately, Jaejoong stills, savours the rough pads of Yunho’s fingers and how delicately they press and flutter away before Yunho’s smiling at him widely. ‘They’re really well done.’

 

‘Yoochun found the artist,’ says Jaejoong, remembering that said friend has gone out on a date today. ‘Do you want one?’ Junsu waves his hand and Yunho shakes his head, so Jaejoong’s eyes land on Changmin, on how the boy is watching Yunho’s fingers and where they go before his gaze flickers up to look at Jaejoong himself. ‘Changminnie?’

 

‘No,’ replies Changmin almost immediately, before turning on his heel and walking away.

 

Later, Changmin fucks Jaejoong, with Jaejoong on his back, and he scrapes his nails down Changmin’s chest, a smile on his mouth.

 

‘It hurts – the – _ungh_ – needle,’ he says, moving his hips to Changmin’s thrusts, proud at how much Changmin has improved these past couple of months. ‘Stings, pain jabbing at your skin, fuck.’ Changmin’s eyes are focused on Jaejoong’s hole, how it swallows his cock in one smooth movement, but they flash up when Jaejoong speaks, sliding to the inscription on his chest.

 

‘You’d – ah – like it,’ sing-songs Jaejoong, ‘every inch of your skin hurting – ahn, yeah – all that pain.’ Changmin doesn’t reply, but Jaejoong feels the tightening of the boy’s fingers on his hips, how he tries to push his cock deeper inside. ‘Fuck me on my knees, Changminnie.’

 

And sweet Changmin obeys, pulling out his hard cock and letting Jaejoong get into position before sliding back inside in a hard, unrelenting thrust. Jaejoong pitches forward with an exhale of surprise before his shoulder blades are pushing back along with his ass, trying to get Changmin inside of him as deep as he can. ‘God – put your hand on my back.’

 

Changmin makes a strangled noise, wrenching one hand off Jaejoong’s hips in order to slap his fingers on Jaejoong’s spine, palm pushing against the _TVfXQ_ so hard that the soreness strikes deep into Jaejoong’s arousal – ‘It _hurts_ so fucking _good_ ,’ he moans, ‘makes you fucking _forget_ everything – hah – don’t you want it, Changmin-aaahhh – ’

 

He doesn’t get verbal answer but Changmin sobs out loud, unable to keep it in, not when he knows the feeling Jaejoong is describing, the one that he tries to keep away from when they fuck. His hand keeps pressing against Jaejoong’s back, the other one digging his nails deep within Jaejoong’s hip, as his thrusts get harsher, more erratic, losing that practiced rhythm from before.

 

Jaejoong would be disappointed if he wasn’t so fucking aroused with this – feeling the way Changmin gives in, even against his will. How subspace threatens to creep in from the corner of his vision and make him sink into himself, and he won’t be able to think anymore – just fuck hard and deep into Jaejoong’s ass, to make Jaejoong come, all of it _for_ Jaejoong.

 

‘Such a good boy,’ groans Jaejoong, one hand jerking himself off to Changmin’s bucking hips. ‘Good fucking boy.’

 

The compliment gets a guttural cry and Changmin grinds harshly up against Jaejoong’s hole, and _oh_ – Jaejoong has trained him in this _so fucking well_ since he’s already creaming himself. Changmin follows just as quick, pumping Jaejoong full of warm come, Changmin’s forehead pressed in the space between Jaejoong’s shoulder blades as he tries to catch his breath.

 

‘I’m not,’ says Changmin, voice wrecked, ‘I fucking hate people with too many tattoos and piercings.’

 

He pulls out, and Jaejoong clenches his ass to feel the come inside of him, feeling lazy and sated. ‘Lucky me.’

 

In a practiced rush, Changmin wipes himself down with one of Jaejoong’s clothes and leaves.

 

-

 

Finally, Changmin turns seventeen.

 

It takes two months after that to hear Yoochun and Yunho go out, and Junsu also disappearing an hour later. Jaejoong is cooking dinner for himself in the kitchen when Changmin comes home, kicking off his shoes.

 

Jaejoong waits for a beat, then hears Changmin sigh and arrange his shoes precisely, having gotten in enough screaming matches with Jaejoong over cleanliness for the past two years to last a lifetime.

 

‘Welcome home,’ mentions Jaejoong when Changmin finally walks through the kitchen, taking off his coat.

 

‘Mm,’ hums Changmin, before Jaejoong calls out:

 

‘I want you to try this.’

 

Always eager for food and comfortable in the false knowledge that there are others home so Jaejoong won’t touch him, Changmin turns around and heads back to the stove, obediently opening his mouth for the piece Jaejoong is holding with chopsticks.

 

He chews, swallows, and nods his approval. ‘S’good.’

 

‘Do you want some?’

 

A pause. ‘Sure.’

 

Jaejoong turns back to his food and lets Changmin go. Eventually, Changmin will realize they’re home alone, and maybe regret not spending more time with Kyuhyun earlier. For now Jaejoong waits, turning off the burner and getting out a large plate.

 

Changmin doesn’t say a word about the fact that no one else is here throughout the meal as they sit together at the table and eat. Jaejoong lets him wallow in his own wariness, because Changmin knows what’s coming now, it shouldn’t be a surprise.

 

Perhaps _today_ is a surprise, of course. Jaejoong busies himself with dishes after the meal and Changmin’s muffled, ‘thanks’, listening to how Changmin’s footsteps pad away. The anticipation rises within him, becomes electric. He rinses off the plates and chopsticks as fast as he can before heading to his own room.

 

A minute later, Jaejoong is knocking against the door to Changmin’s bed, asking permission.

 

He can taste Changmin’s arousal and fear slink through the crack under the door. Jaejoong bites the inside of his cheek to muffle his laugh.

 

‘Jaejoong-hyung,’ says Changmin from inside, and his voice wavers just once, just enough. Jaejoong can’t wait any longer and he opens the door and doesn’t even bother closing it when he faces Changmin, who is already standing, shoulders tense, expression wary.

 

‘Changminnie, it’s time to pay up,’ says Jaejoong, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, meeting his gaze with no effort to hide the predatory lust he feels, how he can’t wait to sink his teeth into Changmin’s pretty, pale skin and break the bones of his innocence once and for all.

 

‘Thought you forgot,’ mentions Changmin, who seems suddenly so frail and uncertain in the afternoon light.

 

‘You promised,’ pouts Jaejoong, taking one step forward, then another. Changmin swallows and takes one step back. The only one he can, as his leg hits the edge of the bed and he’s gasping in surprise.

 

Jaejoong hones in with precision, pressing a hand to Changmin’s chest to tip him back. With a muffled thud, Changmin lands on his ass against the covers, and Jaejoong straddles him with a smooth movement.

 

Involuntarily, Changmin’s hands fit themselves around Jaejoong’s hips, his eyes wide as Jaejoong cups Changmin’s cheeks and kisses his mouth softly. Jaejoong can feel Changmin’s breath rush out in a sharp exhale, his entire body going tight in tension when Jaejoong nibbles at Changmin’s bottom lip, sliding the tip of his tongue along the seam. When Changmin refuses to reciprocate, Jaejoong pulls away and frowns, ‘don’t want to kiss your hyung?’

 

‘Get off me,’ tries Changmin, but his voice is shaky and his cock half-hard underneath Jaejoong’s ass.

 

‘You’re always so easy to read,’ he titters, sliding a hand down Changmin’s neck and torso to wrench the hem of his shirt upwards. ‘I know you, Changminnie.’ His other hand takes the hem as well and he’s forcibly pulling upwards, until Changmin gives in with another audible swallow, lifting his arms to be shed of his clothes.

 

Jaejoong follows through and strips off his own shirt before standing up and kicking off his pants and underwear, his cock still soft but twitching as the image of debauching Changmin filters into his brain.

 

On the bed, Changmin clenches his jaw, then unbuckles his own pants, determination in his eyes to get this over with as fast as he can. He doesn’t know when the others will be back and he’s correct in assuming that Jaejoong won’t stop if one of them does. Always so practical, thinks Jaejoong with a smile.

 

When they’re both naked, Jaejoong fishes out the lube from the back of his jean’s pocket, the one he took from his own room, and pushes Changmin so that he’s on his back, knees hanging off the edge.

 

‘How do you want it, Changminnie?’ hums Jaejoong, ‘I’ll give you a choice. It is your first time.’

 

Changmin stares up at him, hands at either side, nails curled into the bedspread. ‘Where I don’t have to look at you,’ he replies eventually.

 

‘Hands and knees, then.’ Jaejoong slaps Changmin’s thigh, savours the yelp, and nudges him so that Changmin is facing the headboard, his fingers clutching the softness of his pillow while he exposes his ass to the air like the fucking slut that he is.

 

Jaejoong gets behind him, smoothing both hands up the back of the other’s thighs, staring at the brush of dark hair and Changmin’s tight ass, how hot it was going to be and how good it was going to feel all around Jaejoong’s cock.

 

He tips forward, kisses Changmin’s ass cheek before flicking his tongue against the rim of his entrance and Changmin makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat at the sensation.  Gorgeous, virgin Changminnie.

 

Changmin makes more sweet noises as Jaejoong rims him, getting his entrance so fucking wet with his spit, hoping he can hear the lewd, filthy noises of Jaejoong’s tongue in his ass, trying to fuck him. He wonders when Changmin will return the favour – when his tongue will hesitate and flicker over Jaejoong as Jaejoong tells him to eat out his own leaking come, but maybe not in this lifetime.

 

Still, Jaejoong works him open enough to slide his finger in there without lube, and Changmin buries his face into the pillow to muffle his noises, thighs shaking. ‘Does it burn?’ croons Jaejoong, ‘Can you imagine what it’s going to feel like when I stretch you?’

 

He doesn’t get a reply but he doesn’t expect one. Grabbing the lube, Jaejoong slicks up two fingers and stretches Changmin’s hole a little bit further, knowing exactly how the burn slides its way up Changmin’s neurons, whiting out his thoughts with feeling.

 

‘Haaa – ’ exhales Changmin, his voice pitching too high, when Jaejoong finally slides the third one in. As far as preparation goes, Jaejoong feels like he’s done a good job when he stares at Changmin’s hole all red and wet and open for him. It flutters whenever Jaejoong fucks into it with his hand, and Jaejoong can’t help but lick at it, taste the lube and salt of Changmin’s sweat, how he’s going to fucking _ruin_ him from the inside out.

 

‘Ready, Changminnie?’ asks Jaejoong, laughter in his throat, ‘I’m going to make you _sing_ for me.’

 

With that, he notches the head of his cock against Changmin’s hole and _pushes_ in without stopping, wanting Changmin to feel it, to remember the goddamn _pain_ and fucking _hurt_ that ripples through his body as Jaejoong seats himself in one complete movement.

 

Changmin throws his head back and _wails_ – every vein in his throat visible as his voice reaches to the rafters, so _long_ and _loud_ that Jaejoong can’t even breathe with how beautiful it tastes on his tongue. All of Changmin’s arousal strung with pain and how much he fucking _loved_ it all for his hissing to the contrary.

 

‘Oh, Changmin,’ exhales Jaejoong, entranced, before pulling out and fucking back into him.

 

‘Ah – !’ Changmin sobs, blinking back his tears, staring up at the ceiling, and Jaejoong doesn’t stop fucking into him. ‘Ah – ah – ah – !’

 

His entire body is vibrating, shaking with how much it fucking hurts and how overwhelming it all is – but Jaejoong isn’t merciful. He fucks into Changmin hard and fast, doesn’t let the other adjust when he can savour this fluttering tightness, how hot and perfect Changmin’s ass fits around him, how much the pain is making Changmin’s cock drool a goddamn puddle of precome on the sheets without a single touch to it from Jaejoong’s hand.

 

Oh, he knew – he always fucking knew – how easy it would be to break Changmin. Changmin scrabbles for a grip on the sheets as Jaejoong reams into him, his mouth dripping filthy things into the boy’s ear, ‘it feels so good, your ass swallowing me up. God, so greedy for it, aren’t you? Want my cock that bad?’

 

‘No – ahn – ha – !’ says Changmin, but he’s crying and his voice is wrecked, his eyes so wide as his body takes in Jaejoong’s cock, clenching down as if it never wants Jaejoong to leave. God, it felt so fucking good to do this to him – to take it all away, his cock and mouth and ass all belonging to Jaejoong.

 

‘Take it, my pretty little slut,’ encourages Jaejoong, chest draped along Changmin’s back, hips snapping hard into the ass, so that the room is filled with the sound of skin on skin to complement Changmin’s pathetic, whimpering noises as he tries so hard not to enjoy this. ‘You love the pain, I know you do.’

 

Changmin jerks his head, his face flushed and angry and _humiliated_ as his body rolls to Jaejoong’s hips, feeling Jaejoong fuck him open with all the hurt and ache climbing through his nerves to pool into his belly with his arousal. Jaejoong keeps fucking, keeps rocking hard into him, and one of his hands reaches around Changmin’s body to brush his fingers along the shaft of Changmin’s leaking, slender cock.

 

‘ _Fuck_!’ calls out Changmin, helpless to the sensations that flood through him, hips bucking into the touch. Jaejoong smiles and grasps his cock, stroking him off as he fucks him hard, unrelenting, and Changmin writhes, unable to even breathe.

 

‘Take it, fucking _take it_ ,’ snarls Jaejoong, his own arousal ramping up at the sight of Changmin – his voice so stretched and high as his keening mounts upwards with how good Jaejoong jerks him off, how deep Jaejoong screws into him.

 

‘Hyu- _ung_ ,’ moans Changmin, his voice breaking, and Jaejoong wonders if it’s a beg to keep going or to stop and figures even Changmin doesn’t know when his expression goes slack as he gives in. The pleasure and pain are fusing within him, driving him further and further to his orgasm, and Jaejoong can feel Changmin shivering with acceptance, his mind sinking into himself.

 

Changmin is still young – still _seventeen_ and new to everything – and so Jaejoong gets him to orgasm quick enough with a thumbnail digging into Changmin’s cockhead as Jaejoong does a grind right deep into Changmin’s ass, feeling how he scrapes against Changmin’s prostate and makes the boy arch.

 

‘Haaa – !’ Changmin is shaking, crying, losing his mind, every part of him pliant and willing for Jaejoong to use up for his own pleasure, and Jaejoong laughs out loud as he fucks, his voice echoing with Changmin’s sobs, until – _finally_ – Changmin goes hot and tight around him, ass fluttering as his cock twitches and stripes Jaejoong’s hand with come, ropes and ropes of it, his voice _wailing_ that sweet high note that Jaejoong will never get tired of hearing.

 

‘Oh, Changminnie,’ sighs out Jaejoong, ‘this is the hardest you’ve come yet,’ and he reams into Changmin’s tight heat until he’s close, ruthless and unforgiving, making sure that Changmin will be sore for the rest of the week, that every bruise on his hips will remind him of what he did, what he _gave_ to Jaejoong – the last of his innocence, all so sweet on Jaejoong’s tongue.

 

He pumps Changmin full of his semen, groaning, before pulling out and seeing Changmin’s eyes flutter close in a wince as his body gives up without Jaejoong holding him in position anymore. Jaejoong watches as Changmin collapses in on his stomach, into his own pile of cooling come, the diamonds of his sweat glittering all along his untouched back. Jaejoong will change that, of course. Soon.

 

For now, he’s satisfied with this. With Changmin’s virginity – be it cock, or mouth, or ass. Jaejoong has it all, has _taken_ it all, and broken Changmin so completely that Changmin will have no choice but to come back to him from now on.

 

‘Only _I_ can give this to you,’ reminds Jaejoong softly, whispering into Changmin’s ear, mouth brushing against the cartilage. ‘Only Jaejoong-hyung.’

 

Changmin shivers and jerks, still swooning in subspace, eyes bleary when they blink to take in the image of Jaejoong in all his flushed skin and mussed hair and gentle, plush mouth curved into a proud smile.

 

‘Go to sleep now,’ Jaejoong murmurs as he tilts his head to kiss Changmin’s pliant mouth, and Changmin presses back – just for a moment – before he passes out with a soft exhale. So Jaejoong dresses, throws a blanket over Changmin’s debauched form, and leaves with a smile on his face.

 

-

 

A few days later, the band finds itself in one of the recording studios at SM, lyric sheets printed and handed out to them all. The vocal coach leads them through the chord progressions and mentions a few places where there would be adlibs to record.

 

Jaejoong reads it over once, twice, and feels the sweet taste in his mouth again. The same taste he got from fucking Changmin open, leaving the boy sore and closed into himself for the past week.

 

‘I want the high notes to go to Changmin,’ he mentions, and the vocal coach pauses in her instructions, blinking at Jaejoong.

 

‘Can Changmin...’ she trails off and looks at the boy standing next to Yunho. ‘Can you do it?’

 

Changmin looks surprised and touches his throat self-consciously before he nods, a glint in his eye, seemingly determined to at least try. Jaejoong raises his hand again, catching the coach’s attention. ‘Let me try a few test notes with Changmin in the booth.’

 

‘Sure.’

 

With that, Changmin goes behind the plexiglass window, headphones around his swan neck, with Jaejoong following behind him. In front of the window, Yoochun, Yunho, and Junsu sit on the couch, the vocal coach asking them to read and memorize their designated lines, before she’s turning to the switchboard and hooking on her own headphones over her ears.

 

‘Okay, Jaejoong-sshi, I want to hear you sing up as high as you can, but don’t stress.’ Jaejoong picks a note, holds it, and lets it slide its way upwards like a fishing line, tugging his head back and his throat working to let it finish breathlessly after a few seconds.

 

The coach nods approvingly and looks at Changmin, who seems fixated on the microphone in front of him, his gaze focused. Jaejoong steps directly behind Changmin, head tipping forward to murmur in the boy’s ear as he adjusted the microphone to his height.

 

‘Remember how you sang for me, Changminnie?’

 

A shiver wracks its way down Changmin’s spine and he swallows. ‘Yes.’ It was going to take a century and a half for Changmin to forget, Jaejoong thinks.

 

Instead of replying, Jaejoong’s fingers skitter down the length of Changmin’s back, hidden from view, and dips them under the waistband of Changmin’s jeans to feel the curve of the boy’s spinal dips. ‘I want you to do that same thing.’

 

‘Hyung,’ says Changmin, half-warning, half-arousal, all hate. Jaejoong ignores him, presses his hand further down Changmin’s pants, the pads of his fingers sliding along the crack and flicking at the flushed rim of Changmin’s hole. It earns a strangled gasp that Changmin tries to muffle by biting his bottom lip.

 

‘Are you ready?’ calls out the coach, who can’t see Jaejoong’s arm behind Changmin, what Jaejoong is doing to him – an endless but necessary torture.

 

‘Yeah,’ Changmin calls out, his voice a little shaky. He clears his throat and peers at the microphone, waiting for instruction.

 

‘Go ahead – same as Jaejoong-sshi.’

 

Changmin inhales and then belts out a note – not exactly low but not high either, but he lets it build upwards, until Jaejoong twists his hand and slides in his middle finger dry and deep inside of Changmin’s ass. Immediately, Changmin’s voice cuts off with a high-pitched whimper.

 

Jaejoong smiles and pulls away entirely. ‘C’mon – I know you remember, you can do it.’

 

The vocal coach scrunches up her eyebrows, and watches as Jaejoong exits the booth entirely, taking position next to the coach to watch Changmin. Changmin swallows, ‘can I try again?’

 

‘Sure,’ accedes the coach, ‘go ahead.’

 

He takes a moment to breathe before everything goes irrelevant around him. Jaejoong watches – entranced and _proud_ – as Changmin’s voice climbs, lifts, hits a _peak_ that has Jaejoong’s heart in his throat as the veins in Changmin’s neck strain like he’s being fucked again, on his own bedsheets, the pain and pleasure all synergized within him to create the most _gorgeously_ pitched note.

 

Suddenly, Changmin cuts off with a gasp, running out of air, but the vocal coach’s eyes are wide and impressed. Behind Jaejoong, there are stunned murmurs from Junsu, Yoochun, and Yunho as they watch their maknae rub at his vocal cords, breathing hard.

 

‘We’ll need to practice on that,’ the coach mentions. ‘But you definitely get the part.’

 

Later, Jaejoong won’t have to fuck Changmin to hear it – those second-long wails backed with music, always a reminder as to when Changmin first got it, first found it within himself.

 

Months afterwards, without any of them really noticing, Changmin’s scream becomes a trademark of their band, and as greedy as Jaejoong is, he loves that everyone else adores Changmin’s voice like he does. There is a stark difference of course – and it’s the one that keeps Jaejoong pleased – the world will never have that lovely note the way Jaejoong does.

 

-

 

There is, of course, the rest of the band to contend with after Jaejoong fucks Changmin, but they’re not a particular problem to him. _His_ behaviour is always the same – he smokes, he drinks, he goes out with Yoochun to parties and kisses all the beautiful people in the room (who will never be as beautiful as him, as beautiful as a small boy on cheap sheets with bruises over his skin).

 

He expects Yunho to pick up on it, so he keeps their leader distracted. It wouldn’t do for Yunho to notice how little Changminnie was handling himself these days – his moods swinging between sharp and playful to introverted and sullen. How Changmin still _pined_ for Yunho, but had to settle with the one that Yunho always looked at instead.

 

Yoochun, of course, had tuned into it immediately the day after Jaejoong fucked the boy and rounded on Jaejoong – disbelieving and confused. ‘I thought you had stopped messing with him, hyung.’

 

‘Yoochunnie, what do you think we’re doing?’ asks Jaejoong as if genuinely curious because Changmin hides his soreness and injuries oh-so-well.

 

‘I don’t know,’ admits Yoochun, brows creased in worry, ‘but he’s obviously not taking it well. Jaejoong, he’s a _child_ ,’ and – god – Jaejoong _loves_ Yoochun so much for this. How Yoochun can’t even imagine what Jaejoong does to Changmin, because it’s wrong and horribly cruel, and Yoochun would never put that blame on his best friend.

 

Instead, Jaejoong curls his arms around Yoochun’s waist, tucking himself into the other’s neck. ‘I promise I’m not hurting him – you can even ask Changmin. He’d tell you the same.’

 

Because Changmin would, because Changmin hates seeming weak and insecure, as if he can’t completely take care of himself, pushing himself away from his hyungs to stand on his own two feet too soon and too fast.

 

As for Junsu – Jaejoong has a sneaking suspicion that Junsu knows _something_ , he’s always been more in tune with those around him. Similar to Jaejoong in the way that he can read a room and know what people want before they even say it. Still, he treats Changmin no different from before, and Changmin _clings_ to that like it’s a lighthouse in the storm of his own roiling self-hatred and bewilderment.

 

Publically, Jaejoong varies. He is kind on some days and mean on others. He isn’t afraid to hit Changmin, even if a camera is close, if the boy is being obnoxious, and he sometimes feeds Changmin food, gives him water, calls his name and beckons him closer.

 

Of course, Changmin obeys – cute, snarking maknae that he is – and sometimes he even laughs, lets a smile appear, eats Jaejoong’s food with a hum of pleasure that can’t help but slip from his throat.

 

Jaejoong doesn’t know _how_ the boy does it – with these conflicting identities pressing against each other. Changmin who can throw a punch and embrace Jaejoong lined up against a Changmin who has retreated within himself after Jaejoong carves him open against the sheets. There are too many facets – fortunately, Jaejoong can read them all.

 

It’s called cognitive dissonance, Jaejoong will learn later. If there is pain, if it is hard to get yourself somewhere, and the result is not what you expect it to be, then you justify it to yourself. You lie and say this outcome – this underwhelming result which belies bitter disappointment – is much better than it seems.

 

Changmin looks at Jaejoong and searches for a sign of affection, that he is in this because Jaejoong wants him, some weird powerplay where Changmin is in control, not the other way around.

 

He tells himself that Jaejoong’s rare signs of affection, of touches that don’t end in bruises and hurt, of his voice saying, ‘Changmin? Where’s Changminnie?’ are proof that Jaejoong must care for him, must love him. That what Jaejoong has done to him is due to an investment in Changmin’s life and a need to be ingrained as deep within as Changmin will let him.

 

What Changmin doesn’t understand is that if you want to keep playing with a toy, you must make sure not to break it.

 

So Jaejoong is nice, kind, and drinks in Changmin’s genuine flashes of wide-eyed efforts to reciprocate this imagined affection as he falls horribly into his own deception. Maybe, in some other life, should Changmin had not exuded such lamb-like innocence, if he didn’t wade in an ocean of his own insecurities, if they had both not met Yunho and his perfection, if there was no DBSK – maybe, Jaejoong wants to say, maybe I would have loved you.

 

For now, Changmin is a plaything, and he belongs to Jaejoong’s. Jaejoong will take this unfinished, broken, twig-wristed thing and transform him. If Changmin pretends on love, that is his own weakness.

 

-

 

There is no love to how they fuck. But there is need and there is satisfaction.

 

The second time they fuck, Jaejoong leaves long scratches all the way down Changmin’s ribs and holds the boy’s arms in his hands until they bruise. Changmin spits and snarls, as if his cock isn’t red and arcing towards his navel from the pain, from the way Jaejoong’s razor-sharp teeth bite down on his neck after a murmured, ‘hope you like scarves, Changminnie.’

 

Another time, Changmin screams when Jaejoong’s teeth pierces skin, leaves little droplets of blood like a trail of petals trickling down his brittle bones. He struggles against Jaejoong’s grip, tries to get away and get _more_ – his brain unable to understand the difference between pleasure and pain, only that both sensations have every nerve in his body firing and whiting out his thoughts.

 

Some other night, Jaejong ties his wrists and fucks him on his back, leaves finger bruises like ten marks of ownership over the back of Changmin’s thighs as he pumps his cock deep inside of Changmin. Eventually the rhythm has Changmin lulling, his eyes half-lidded and brows drawn together, spit streaked down his chin as he falls for the thrusting of Jaejoong’s body, no matter how violent it becomes.

 

Jaejoong loves this since it makes Changmin’s hole get all tight and fluttery, and he makes Changmin come once on his dick, leaving white stripes over his own stomach, ‘such a fucking slut for it,’ he groans out appreciatively.

 

Changmin can only respond with a slurred moan – ‘ _ahn_ , haaaah – !’  – having run out of expletives with how dazed he is as he falls into himself, so Jaejoong flips him to his stomach, makes him rub up in his own pile of come before Jaejoong is reaming back into him, savouring that tight, hot ass.

 

Like this, Jaejoong sees the ripple of muscle all down Changmin’s back, how he keeps taking Jaejoong’s cock inside of him, to feel that sore, burning stretch all along his body, even while his flaccid cock valiantly tries to rise again.

 

Eventually it does, and Jaejoong jerks him off again, feeling Changmin arch and writhe through a second orgasm before Jaejoong pumps him full of his own load, ‘always so good,’ wondering if Changmin thought the warm come in his ass was also what Jaejoong’s affection felt like.

 

-

 

Sometimes, Jaejoong chokes Changmin.

 

It doesn’t happen as often as Jaejoong would want it too – because it’s a fucking process to throw Changmin down on his stomach and use a belt to tie his wrists tied behind his back.

 

‘Fuck you,’ Changmin snarls as Jaejoong grips his hair and pulls him upwards to kneel, facing the headboard, Jaejoong’s chest pressed along the curved line of Changmin’s back.

 

‘Says the slut always ready for my cock,’ replies Jaejoong, his dick already hard at what he’s going to do to Changmin, how he’s going to _break_ him. Instead of waiting for a reply, Jaejoong hooks his elbow around Changmin’s neck like how Yunho taught him, and squeezes, crushing Changmin’s windpipe.

 

Immediately, Changmin tries to struggle away, to leave, but it’s all ever so perfunctory because Jaejoong will hurt him, but not kill him. In the end, Changmin will always fall for Jaejoong’s wants because it makes a white-encased bliss sweep over his brain, makes that everlasting noise of despair and self-disgust fade away for a while.

 

And it doesn’t even take that long for Changmin to go still, to go pliant, as Jaejoong counts the seconds in his head, measures out how much Changmin can take so Jaejoong can leave sweet bruises all over his throat and chafe his skin so he’ll have no choice but to wear collars and turtlenecks for the rest of the week.

 

When Jaejoong finally lets go, Changmin’s cock is leaking enough precome to slick itself as the boy teeters forward, his throat working to bring in as much oxygen as he can to revive his body. Jaejoong sees him shiver and shake, his wrists straining against the belt.

 

Without waiting, Jaejoong lines up his cock and slams in – dry and hot – and Changmin’s too breathless to scream properly, letting the sounds get stuck halfway in his throat as Jaejoong fucks and fucks and _fucks_ him, a hand on the back of Changmin’s neck, mashing the boy’s face against his pillow to suffocate him again.

 

‘You love it – _ungh_ – I know you do,’ says Jaejoong into his ear as Changmin manages to turn his head a little to the side and inhale sharply through his mouth, ‘you’re so fucking easy to read, y’know – _fuck_ – ’

 

‘Ah, hah, ungh, fuck,’ is all Changmin can manage, his face twisted with hatred and desire as his hips buck, beginning to meet Jaejoong’s thrusts, craving that blend of pleasure-pain, wondering if he could come untouched with just Jaejoong’s dick in his ass, screwing him open.

 

Jaejoong is a ruthless force of sex all up against Changmin’s body, using him up to his own cause, pushing Changmin into his own mind so that Changmin can barely think anymore, much less protest with how hard and roughly he was getting fucked. With another thrust, then another, Jaejoong kisses the cartilage of Changmin’s ear, laughing ‘Yeah. Like a fucking novel, Changminnie, I know how much you love it.’

 

Changmin comes – giving in so completely, and Jaejoong groans when his cock gets milked, breathing hard as he lets himself flood Changmin’s ass with his come, feel it start to leak out half a minute later once the aftershocks have died down and Changmin is hiccupping to catch his breath, fingers still clutched tight in the sheets.

 

Half-expecting the boy to pass out, Jaejoong kisses a line down Changmin’s spine, grabbing tissues to wipe at Changmin’s come, take care of him for a little while when Changmin is too fucked-out to resist Jaejoong’s occasional indulgences.

 

‘Good, lovely slut,’ he murmurs when Changmin obediently rolls onto his back to let Jaejoong clean at his stomach, his mouth open and pink. Oh, Jaejoong can’t resist that. He leans over, kisses Changmin’s mouth, and feels the boy kiss back.

 

Cognitive dissonance. Changmin keeps kissing, keeps buying into his own idea that Jaejoong can leave him destroyed like this because they like and care and love one another.

 

Jaejoong smiles and pulls away, ‘no, Changminnie, move your mouth like this,’ and dips back down again.

 

-

 

For four more years, they rise and reign as gods.

 

Junsu grows up sleek eyed, with a seductive mouth and a body to die for. Yoochun keeps his angles and planes, yet fills out in his clothes, straightens his back and smiles directly into the camera as if he would like to be nowhere else. Jaejoong is so proud.

 

Yunho grows up soft and beautiful. Jaejoong wants to grip Yunho’s wrists till they’re bruising, see how Yunho’s lashes flutter and his brows draw together, how his pretty bowed lip would fit under Jaejoong’s teeth if they ever kissed. Yet, Yunho is too strong to shatter into a million broken pieces the way Changmin does, he’s too self-assured and confident now. Jaejoong can’t help but love him more for it – but Yunho would still bleed and scar under Jaejoong’s fingertips. So Jaejoong keeps away, focuses on the last one.

 

Changmin grows up. Upup _up_. Shooting past Yunho by a few centimetres and filling out from the hours he spends in the gym on their days off or in the early mornings. They cut his hair short, make him look like less of a boy, but it still shines through with that wide mouth, those big eyes.

 

‘He’s getting stronger,’ says Jaejoong to the camera, ‘to _hit_ me.’

 

Changmin only laughs, belying his true feelings. Because Yunho still doesn’t look at Changmin the way Changmin looks at him. Because Jaejoong still has a monopoly on Yunho should he ever choose to have Yunho’s attention. Because they hate each other at the end of the day – no matter what niceties Jaejoong pretends to give and Changmin pretends to receive.

 

The more beautiful they become, the more revealing the outfits. Jaejoong wants to break all the rules and leave blooming purple flower petals all down the skin of Changmin’s arms and around his throat. Instead, he slaps Changmin’s ribs with ringed fingers, watching the marks flush red then fade out to green-yellow-blue-purple – a rainbow of pain for Changmin to mull over when it’s been too long between the last fuck and the next one.

 

Changmin gets good at evading questions, dodging glances, reassuring stylists that the bruises are from the gym, of course, he’s taking some martial arts courses and they don’t go easy on a person. Sometimes it’s sports. Something it’s just bumping into the table or falling off the couch. Like Yunho-hyung gets all those scars, says Changmin offhandedly, I easily bruise.

 

-

 

This is the moment that Jaejoong remembers the most distinctly from their high-reigning positions, straddling two countries, holding hundreds of hearts in their hands, gods in every right, soaked in riches and fame.

 

It begins with Changmin being twenty years old and broken into a thousand pieces by Jaejoong over the course of five years. It begins with Changmin thinking – for one frail second – that he can fight back.

 

Jaejoong remembers first kissing Changmin at sixteen – how soft it was, feather-light, gentle. How the boy had not wanted anything to do with it. It didn’t matter now, because whenever Jaejoong initiated it, Changmin always responded. Took a few years of training, but it was worth it to see that wide mouth all flushed and wet with Jaejoong’s spit as it tried to curse Jaejoong down to hell.

 

Today is marked with something different – it is the first time Changmin kisses Jaejoong. Changmin – who stalks into the kitchen, using his height and build to seem imposing and loom over Jaejoong as Jaejoong watches the stove – before grabbing Jaejoong’s wrist.

 

‘Yes, Changminnie?’ murmurs Jaejoong, before he’s caught off-guard and spun around, back pressing against the edge of the kitchen counter as Changmin dips his head to bite at Jaejoong’s bottom lip hard enough to bleed.

 

Jaejoong can play this game in his fucking sleep – he smiles and bites back, just as roughly, keeping up with the way Changmin kisses with experience, sucking hard on Jaejoong’s top lip before fucking his tongue into Jaejoong’s mouth.

 

They might be alone, they might not be – hard to remember in the haze of Jaejoong’s mounting arousal, especially when his little puppy was trying to bite. Changmin might be a gymrat, but Jaejoong would always be stronger. He wrenches his mouth away, staring up at Changmin’s glittering eyes, before one of his hands are colliding against Changmin’s throat, keeping a tight grip as he forcibly makes the boy walk backwards.

 

Without flourish, Jaejoong slams Changmin’s back against the table, hand tight around his throat. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Changminnie?’ he smiles, voice soft and promising pain.

 

‘Going to fuck you,’ rasps Changmin, a hand lashing out but Jaejoong knocks it away and then grips Changmin’s wrist, slamming it beside Changmin’s head against the wood. ‘Going to break you,’ he continues, undaunted.

 

Jaejoong cocks his head, laughing. ‘You can’t, but it’s okay, Changmin-ah. No one can.’

 

He releases Changmin and takes a step back, watching as Changmin stands back up in a smooth motion as if he wasn’t just pinned before trying to throw a punch at him.

 

This – this is familiar, even if the intent is something strange and pathetic, only something that Changmin could conceive from the broken parts of his mind where he imagines they’re lovers or enemies or something in between when they’re none of that.

 

They’re creator and creature, artist and sculpture. Changmin is his work, and Jaejoong will be damned to be overwhelmed by a thing carved from his own hands. Instead, he tussles with Changmin on the kitchen floor, unbuckling his belt to tie Changmin’s wrists at the small of his back until the boy stops resisting.  At twenty, it still takes just as long as it did at seventeen, but it’s pleasing. Jaejoong would’ve gotten oh-so-bored if Changmin stopped putting up a fight.

 

Eventually, Jaejoong tosses Changmin on his knees on Changmin’s own bed, admiring the marks of punches and kicks and elbow jabs and knees to the ribs. How Changmin was going to be sore for the rest of the month, how the skin was going to pull every time Changmin lifted weights and reminded him how fucking _weak_ he was even after all these years.

 

‘God – you’re such a greedy fucking thing,’ pants Jaejoong as he rips the clothes off Changmin, admires that grown body in its litheness and muscle. ‘First time – I had to have you against that fucking couch because you wouldn’t give in, do you remember?’

 

Changmin snarls out a, ‘I hate you – I fucking ha – _angh_!’ before Jaejoong pushes his spit-slick cock into Changmin’s ass without any preparation. The burn of too-dry skin rushes into Jaejoong’s head, and makes Changmin wail out, wrists struggling against the leather.

 

‘Had to kiss you first too, had to get you here on my – ah, fuck – on my own,’ groans Jaejoong, fingers tight on Changmin’s hips, railing into him, loving how the friction was almost too much, almost too hot and tight around his cock, and how well Changmin took him in. ‘God – you can never fucking give, can you?’

 

He leans over, chest lining all along Changmin’s spine, feeling the scratch of Changmin’s nails as they scraped across Jaejoong’s sternum. Changmin’s gulping for air, throat working as his brain short-circuits from the way Jaejoong pistons into him, rocking into Changmin’s prostate and making Changmin drip precome against his will.

 

Jaejoong isn’t done of course, when he unhooks his hand from Changmin’s hips to grab a fistful of hair, wrenching his head back and drinking in the sight of Changmin’s desperately bobbing adam’s apple. The angle has Changmin’s body arching, letting Jaejoong fuck hard and good into him, loving how Changmin’s body involuntarily goes tight with tension, his hole too, milking Jaejoong’s dick so fucking well.

 

‘You can fucking take though,’ he says, snapping his hips so hard against Changmin’s ass, reveling in the noises of his balls slapping against the back of Changmin’s thighs, how he’ll struggle to walk properly when this is fucking over. ‘You are so fucking _hungry_ for my cock, aren’t you? A complete – ah – slut for me.’

 

‘Fuck you,’ froths Changmin immediately, his entire body singing under the rough usage, under Jaejoong’s unrelenting touch, and the ruthless fucking of Jaejoong’s cock inside of him. ‘You fucking – ah, uhn!’

 

Can’t even fucking _speak_ , thinks Jaejoong and laughs with it, pulling Changmin’s head back even further and using his other hand to scrape his nails across the line of Changmin’s throat hard enough to leave welts. ‘Come for me, little Changminnie,’ he calls out, voice a lilting song to contrast with the slamming thrusts he’s giving Changmin, ‘come for me filled only with my cock like the hungry whore you are – ’

 

Oh – he’s so close. Changmin shuts his eyes, giving in to it all. The abuse makes his entire body get hot with lust and his cock is twitching and dribbling precome. Even his hips cant backwards, welcoming Jaejoong’s cock inside of him all hot and willing, Jaejoong couldn’t have found a better fucking slut than this.

 

It’s the sight of Changmin with his teeth sinking into his bottom lip in some futile attempt to muffle his keening that makes Jaejoong lose it all – his sense of rhythm and any motivation to speak. All he can do now is grip Changmin’s hair and fuck him so deep that Jaejoong can’t even breathe, just loves how good Changmin’s ass takes him in and clenches down as if to keep him there.

 

Changmin comes without a warning – completely untouched, just from the roughness of Jaejoong, how the pain is swimming in his veins and making him light-headed and delirious. ‘Oh shit, your ass feels amazing,’ gasps Jaejoong when Changmin’s body tightens up and loosens with aftershocks. Underneath, Changmin’s cock is striping his bedspread with come, and Changmin’s eyes are open but unseeing as he tries to breathe from the overstimulation.

 

Jaejoong pulls out and flips Changmin to his back, straddling the boy’s chest and shoving his cock right into the pretty, wet mouth. ‘Fuck your throat the way you like it,’ he tells Changmin, sinking deep into that heat, ‘fucking take it all, my gorgeous slut.’

 

The muffled noise from Changmin might be words or a moan, but Changmin’s too far gone anyway for Jaejoong to care as he rams hard into that mouth, loving the slackness of it, the tickling touches of Changmin’s tongue along the underside of the shaft, how Jaejoong’s balls feel when they slap against Changmin’s chin.

 

He keeps fucking, feeling the flutter of Changmin’s throat. ‘Choke on it, yeah,’ he encourages breathlessly, ‘god, you love this – get off on suffocating on my dick.’ Changmin’s brows are drawn tight but his mouth is still wide and pliant, willing to let Jaejoong use it for his own pleasure.

 

So he does – unrelenting, one hand tangled in Changmin’s hair, the other hooked around the headboard as he pounds into Changmin’s mouth as if it was his ass. He pardons the little skims of teeth against his dick when Changmin can barely breathe right now, his eyes glittering with tears that have cut lines across his face, soaking into his hair.

 

With a muffled groan, Jaejoong comes after grinding right up against Changmin’s mouth, making the boy sputter around the hot load of come slinking down his throat. He pulls out soon after that, admiring the string of semen connected between the cockhead and Changmin’s bottom lip.

 

‘Turn over,’ says Jaejoong, and Changmin lolls his head before struggling onto his side then his stomach. With quick movements, Jaejoong has the belt undone and Changmin’s hands are free.

 

Lethargic, Changmin draws his hands to his chest, blinking slowly as he comes back from subspace. Jaejoong waits, wanting answers, but he can’t help but admire the canvas he’s made of Changmin’s back and sides – the interweaving coloured bruises like a watercolour painting of pain.

 

‘Will I be getting a repeat of this?’ he asks, voice light and casual. Changmin doesn’t fall for it. Instead, he lifts himself up into a sitting position, draping the blanket around his shoulders, knees drawn to his chest, as if forgetting he’s almost twenty-one and instead becomes fifteen again.

 

When Changmin finally replies, it’s with a young voice, a quivering voice that would make Jaejoong’s heart clench if he had one. ‘Don’t – don’t take Yunho-hyung away from me.’

 

 _Oh_. Jaejoong – seated naked and casual at the edge of the bed – looks at Changmin again, a little more closely. ‘Junsu told you then – about the lawsuit.’

 

‘You can’t have him,’ continues Changmin, looking hard at his own knees, eyes glittering with emotion.

 

‘So you thought of overpowering me? That _breaking_ me would make me listen to you?’ Jaejoong scoffs. ‘How long have you even loved him, hm?’

 

‘Ever since I first saw him in SM. I was fourteen.’ Changmin turns to Jaejoong, pins him with big, haunted eyes full of want and despair. ‘So fuck you. _Fuck you_.’

 

‘There are two things to learn here,’ says Jaejoong slowly, eyes narrowed, feeling oddly claustrophobic from the emotion clouding Changmin’s gaze. ‘One – Yunho is not yours, but he’s not mine either, no matter how much I want him. He’ll never be either of ours, so you fucking grow up and learn that soon, Changminnie.’

 

Changmin flinches, but doesn’t back down. Jaejoong continues, words rushed, ‘and second – you won’t ever, ever be able to hurt me.’ He reaches out, cupping Changmin’s neck, feeling the quiver of emotion running through Changmin’s body as he speaks. ‘Remember,’ and Changmin blinks, once, twice, tears clouding his eyes, ‘I fucking _made_ you,’ and – _finally_ – Changmin cries, ugly and broken.

 

-

 

It is the last time they fuck because after that the lawsuit lands on the kitchen table and Yunho is storming out the door, so full of hurt and anger that he doesn’t return for a week.

 

Once he finally does, the court shatters the gods in half – leaving Yunho and Changmin on side of the gaping crevice and Jaejoong, Yoochun, and Junsu on the other.

 

Jaejoong doesn’t even wait an hour before he’s packed all his stuff and moved into an apartment he and Yoochun began renting out three months earlier to this entire clusterfuck.

 

The contract makes them finish a few last songs in the recording studio, all standing together a little cracked and angry, but it’s over soon enough with professionalism. After all – they’re still _gods_ , not faltering humans who make too many mistakes, victims to their own emotions.

 

-

 

It is only a month later when Changmin buzzes the doorbell to Jaejoong and Yoochun’s apartment, demanding to be let inside. Jaejoong doesn’t know how Changmin has found them – he has a sneaking suspicion it was Yoochun who told him. Yoochun always had a weakness for the maknae. Today, however, Yoochun isn’t here and Jaejoong presses the button that opens the door to the building, waiting in his foyer with half-anticipation and half-curiosity.

 

The knock on the front door comes soon after, and Jaejoong lets Changmin inside – all one hundred and eighty centimetres of him swathed in a coat and sweater from the fall weather that’s swept into Seoul a little too early in the year.

 

‘Hello, Changminnie,’ greets Jaejoong, leading him into the kitchen, ‘How are you? Coffee? Food?’

 

‘Coffee,’ mentions Changmin curtly, ignoring pleasantries in favour of inspecting the clean floor and kitchen counters and the wide, wooden table with four chairs. Changmin takes a seat and watches – Jaejoong can feel his gaze burning into the back of his neck and almost delights in it. How different it is, how _domineering_ Changmin is.

 

He should’ve seen it coming – with the hasty, cluttered way Changmin had tried to draw himself together, be the support for Yunho, who was wide-eyed and upset as he stared across the SM hallway to see Yoochun, Junsu and Jaejoong’s contracts terminated upon court order.

 

Jaejoong brings two steaming mugs over and takes a seat across from Changmin, smiling over his rim. ‘What brings you here?’

 

Changmin doesn’t answer at first, blowing the steam off the top of the cup before flicking his eyes to meet Jaejoong’s curious gaze. ‘To clear a few things up.’

 

‘Do tell.’

 

A deep breath. ‘After today, don’t ever contact me again, or else.’

 

Jaejoong hums. ‘Or what? We’ll fuck again? We had such great times, didn’t we?’

 

‘Shut up,’ says Changmin flatly, but it’s not a denial, and for that Jaejoong wants to laugh. ‘Two, don’t you ever come near Yunho-hyung.’

 

‘Because he’s yours now, right?’ Jaejoong leans forward, eyes open and curious. ‘Or does he still not notice you? How you watch him?’

 

It’s taking all of Changmin’s self-restraint not to throw the coffee in Jaejoong’s face from the way his expression turns stormy and his shoulders draw up, entire body tense in his chair.

 

Jaejoong can’t help it, ‘do you think about it? Doing to him what I did to you? He would enjoy it, y’know – pretty little submissive things like him always do. Just like you.’

 

‘Shut the _fuck_ up.’

 

‘You can do it now, Changminnie,’ reassures Jaejoong, ignoring the other’s outburst entirely. ‘Mark Yunho’s skin up with your fingerprints, have him obey everything you ask of him when you fuck, make him come so hard he forgets his name but still knows yours.’

 

Changmin’s breathing hard through his nose, furious rage pressing against the inside of his teeth, waiting to burst out.

 

Taking pity, Jaejoong nods. ‘I won’t touch him, Changminnie. I never did – not once.’

 

‘Don’t,’ presses Changmin.

 

‘Promise.’ Apparently, it was the only thing Changmin needed as he quickly stands up, coffee untouched. Jaejoong frowns. ‘That’s it? Not here for any apology? Any ‘why did you do that to me, Jaejoong-hyung? For so many years?’’

 

Changmin’s jaw wavers, eyes flashing – as if he’s going to cry – before he straightens out and blinks away the feeling. ‘You’re a fucking bastard.’

 

‘Go home, Changminnie,’ says Jaejoong softly, ‘go back to Yunho. Shove him against a wall. Get him off. The way I did to you.’

 

‘Why.’ Changmin’s voice breaks and he’s taking a step back, face twisted. ‘I hate you.’

 

Jaejoong continues, ‘Just like me, Changminnie, I know you can. After all,’ he smiles, ‘I trained you so _well_.’

 

With a strangled noise, Changmin flees the kitchen. Jaejoong stays seated, cupping his mug between both hands, and listens to the clutter of noise as Changmin puts on his jacket and shoes, the door opening and slamming closed.

 

The resulting silence stretches and creeps – pushing at Jaejoong’s skin, wrapping around him, and he runs his tongue along the edge of his teeth, feeling where Changmin’s bones have caught, and he laughs to himself for a job well done.

 

-

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! feel free to leave feedback here or privately in my [tumblr inbox](http://leftfoottrapped.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
